THE   CRISIS 


"'MAX,    YOU    ARE    GOING    TO    STAY    HERE?'" 


THE    CRISIS 


BY 

WINSTON   CHURCHILL 

AUTHOR  OF   "  RICHARD  CARVEL,"   "  THE  CELEBRITY,"   ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
HOWARD   CHANDLER  CHRISTY 


gorfc 
THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1901 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1901, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN   COMPANY. 


Nortooofi  $ress 

J.  S.  Cushing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass    U  S.A. 


£0 

J.    B.    G. 

AND 

L.    M.    G. 


CONTENTS 
BOOK  I 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Which  deals  with  Origins      ......  1 

II.  The  Mole .  13 

III.  The  Unattainable  Simplicity          .        .        .        .        .22 

IV.  Black  Cattle   .        .        .        ."....                .„     '.  29 
V.  The  First  Spark  passes .42 

VI.  Silas  Whipple 48 

VII.  Callers     .        .'       .        .        .**    ..        .        .        .-        .  56 

VIII.  Bellegarde       .         .        .        .        .        ....        .63 

IX.  A  Quiet  Sunday  in  Locust  Street  .        .        ...  74 

X.  The  Little  House 83 

XL  The  Invitation      ~. 90 

XII.  "  Miss  Jinny "         ........  94 

XIII.  The  Party       .        .        .        . 106 

BOOK    II 

I.  Raw  Material.        . 116 

II.  Abraham  Lincoln 123 

III.  In  which  Stephen  learns  Something      .        .        .        .133 

IV.  The  Question 141 

V.  The  Crisis 148 

VI.  Glencoe 161 

VII.  An  Excursion 177 

VIII.  The  Colonel  is  warned 186 

IX.  Signs  of  the  Times          .  " 192 

X.  Richter's  Scar 205 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XL     How  a  Prince  came 213 

XII.  Into  which  a  Potentate  comes        .....     220 

XIII.  At  Mr.  Brinsmade's  Gate       .  ...     228 

XIV.  The  Breach  becomes  too  Wide 241 

XV.     Mutterings 250 

XVI.     The  Guns  of  Sumter 255 

XVII.     Camp  Jackson 261 

XVIII.  The  Stone  that  is  rejected      .         .         .         .         .         .274 

XIX.  The  Tenth  of  May .        ...         .         .         .         .     283 

XX.  In  the  Arsenal        ......        .         .         .         .294 

XXI.  The  Stampede         .        .        .        ..".'.        .         .310 

XXII.  The  Straining  of  Another  Friendship  .         ,        .         .     324 

XXIII.  Of  Clarence                                                                               332 


BOOK   III 

I.  Introducing  a  Capitalist         .        .        .         .         .         .     338 

II.  News  from  Clarence       .         .         .         .        .         .         .     352 

III.  The  Scourge  of  War 367 

IV.  The  List  of  Sixty .377 

V.  The  Auction 385 

VI.  Eliphalet  plays  his  Trumps    .         .        .        .        .        .     400 

VII.  With  the  Armies  of  the  West        .        *        .       . .         .414 

VIII.  A  Strange  Meeting         .       y     .   .        .        .        .        .427 

IX.  Bellegarde  Once  More    .        .        .         ...        .         .438 

X.  In  Judge  Whipple's  Office      ......     449 

XL  Lead,  Kindly  Light .     466 

XII.  The  Last  Card 471 

XIIT.  From  the  Letters  of  Major  Stephen  Brice      .         .         .477 

XIV.  The  Same,  Continued 487 

XV.  The  Man  of  Sorrows      ; 499 

XVI.  Annapolis 516 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


Max,  you  are  going  to  stay  here? ' '  ...        Frontispiece 


PAGE 


«  '  Please  find  Mr.  Hood,'  directed  Mr.  Coif  ax  "   .         .        .         .18 

" '  He's  a  bachelor/  said  Virginia ;    *  what  use  has  he  got  for 

it?'" 96 

"  *  So  you  have  come  at  last  to  try  again,  Mr.  Brice  ?  '"       .         .  114 

"  « If  you  answer  back,  out  you  go,  like  that ! '  "  .        .        =        .  170 

"  '  They  told  me  you  were  not  coming  ! '" 236 

"  The  Captain  was  given  an  audience  " 339 

"  Twice  Stephen  shook  him  so  that  his  head  beat  upon  the 

table"  473 


THE  CRISIS 

BOOK  I 
CHAPTER  I 

WHICH    DEALS   WITH  ORIGINS 

FAITHFULLY  to  relate  how  Eliphalet  Hopper  came  to 
St.  Louis  is  to  betray  no  secret.  Mr.  Hopper  is  wont 
to  tell  the  story  now,  when  his  daughter-in-law  is  not  by; 
and  sometimes  he  tells  it  in  her  presence,  for  he  is  a  shame 
less  and  determined  old  party  who  denies  the  divine  right 
of  Boston,  and  has  taken  again  to  chewring  tobacco. 

When  Eliphalet  came  to  town,  his  son's  wife,  Mrs. 
Samuel  D.  (or  S.  Dwyer,  as  she  is  beginning  to  call  her 
self),  was  not  born.  Gentlemen  of  Cavalier  and  Puritan 
descent  had  not  yet  begun  to  arrive  at  the  Planters'  House, 
to  buy  hunting  shirts  and  broad  rims,  belts  and  bowies, 
and  depart  quietly  for  Kansas,  there  to  indulge  in  that 
most  pleasurable  of  Anglo-Saxon  pastimes,  a  free  fight. 
Mr.  Douglas  had  not  thrown  his  bone  of  Local  Sovereignty 
to  the  sleeping  dogs  of  war. 

To  return  to  Eliphalet's  arrival,  —  a  picture  which  has 
much  that  is  interesting  in  it.  Behold  the  friendless  boy 
as  he  stands  in  the  prow  of  the  great  steamboat  Louisiana 
of  a  scorching  summer  morning,  and  looks  with  some 
thing  of  a  nameless  disquiet  on  the  chocolate  waters  of 
the  Mississippi.  There  have  been  other  sights,  since 
passing  Louisville,  which  might  have  disgusted  a  Massa 
chusetts  lad  more.  A  certain  deck  on  the  Paducah, 
which  took  him  as  far  as  Cairo,  was  devoted  to  cattle  — 
black  cattle.  Eliphalet  possessed  a  fortunate  tempera- 

B  1 


2  THE   CKISIS 

ment.  The  deck  was  dark,  and  the  smell  of  the  wretches 
confined  there  was  worse  than  it  should  have  been.  And 
the  incessant  weeping  of  some  of  the  women  was  annoy 
ing,  inasmuch  as  it  drowned  many  of  the  profane  com 
munications  of  the  overseer  who  was  showing  Eliphalet 
the  sights.  Then  a  fine-linened  planter  from  down  river 
had  come  in  during  the  conversation,  and  paying  no 
attention  to  the  overseer's  salute  cursed  them  all  into 
silence,  and  left. 

Eliphalet  had  ambition,  which  is  not  a  wholly  undesir 
able  quality.  He  began  to  wonder  how  it  would  feel  to 
own  a  few  of  these  valuable  fellow-creatures.  He  reached 
out  and  touched  lightly  a  young  mulatto  woman  who  sat 
beside  him  with  an  infant  in  her  arms.  The  peculiar 
dumb  expression  on  her  face  was  lost  on  Eliphalet.  The 
overseer  had  laughed  coarsely. 

"What,  skeered  on  'em  ?"  said  he.  And  seizing  the 
girl  by  the  cheek,  gave  it  a  cruel  twinge  that  brought  a 
cry  out  of  her. 

Eliphalet  had  reflected  upon  this  incident  after  he  had 
bid  the  overseer  good-by  at  Cairo,  and  had  seen  that  piti 
ful  coffle  piled  aboard  a  steamer  for  New  Orleans.  And 
the  result  of  his  reflections  was,  that  some  day  he  would 
like  to  own  slaves. 

A  dome  of  smoke  like  a  mushroom  hung  over  the  city, 
visible  from  far  down  the  river,  motionless  in  the  summer 
air.  A  long  line  of  steamboats  —  white,  patient  animals 
—  was  tethered  along  the  levee,  and  the  Louisiana  pres 
ently  swung  in  her  bow  toward  a  gap  in  this  line,  where 
a  mass  of  people  was  awaiting  her  arrival.  Some  invisible 
force  lifted  Eliphalet's  eyes  to  the  upper  deck,  where 
they  rested,  as  if  by  appointment,  on  the  trim  figure  of 
the  young  man  in  command  of  the  Louisiana.  He  was 
very  young  for  the  captain  of  a  large  New  Orleans  packet. 
When  his  lips  moved,  something  happened.  Once  he 
raised  his  voice,  and  a  negro  stevedore  rushed  frantically 
aft,  as  if  he  had  received  the  end  of  a  lightning-bolt. 
Admiration  burst  from  the  passengers,  and  one  man  cried 
out  Captain  Brent's  age  —  it  was  thirty-two. 


WHICH   DEALS   WITH   ORIGINS  3 

Eliphalet  snapped  his  teeth  together.  He  was  twenty- 
seven,  and  his  ambition  actually  hurt  him  at  such  times. 
After  the  boat  was  fast  to  the  landing  stage  he  remained 
watching  the  captain,  who  was  speaking  a  few  parting 
words  to  some  passengers  of  fashion.  The  body-servants 
were  taking  their  luggage  to  the  carriages.  Mr.  Hopper 
envied  the  captain  his  free  and  vigorous  speech,  his  ready 
jokes,  and  his  hearty  laugh.  All  the  rest  he  knew  for  his 
own  —  in  times  to  come.  The  carriages,  the  trained  ser 
vants,  the  obsequiousness  of  the  humbler  passengers. 
For  of  such  is  the  Republic. 

Then  Eliphalet  picked  his  way  across  the  hot  stones  of 
the  levee,  pushing  hither  and  thither  in  the  rough  crowd 
of  river  men  ;  dodging  the  mules  on  the  heavy  drays,  or 
making  way  for  the  carriages  of  the  few  people  of  impor 
tance  who  arrived  on  the  boat.  If  any  recollections  of 
a  cool,  white  farmhouse  amongst  barren  New  England 
hills  disturbed  his  thoughts,  this  is  not  recorded.  He 
gained  the  mouth  of  a  street  between  the  low  houses 
which  crowded  on  the  broad  river  front.  The  black  mud 
was  thick  under  his  feet  from  an  overnight  shower,  and 
already  steaming  in  the  sun.  The  brick  pavement  was 
lumpy  from  much  travel  and  near  as  dirty  as  the  street. 
Here,  too,  were  drays  blocking  the  way,  and  sweaty  negro 
teamsters  swinging  cowhides  over  the  mules.  The  smell 
of  many  wares  poured  through  the  open  doors,  mingling 
with  the  perspiration  of  the  porters.  On  every  side  of 
him  were  busy  clerks,  with  their  suspenders  much  in 
evidence,  and  Eliphalet  paused  once  or  twice  to  listen  to 
their  talk.  It  was  tinged  with  that  dialect  he  had  heard 
since  leaving  Cincinnati. 

Turning  a  corner,  Eliphalet  came  abruptly  upon  a 
prophecy.  A  great  drove  of  mules  was  charging  down 
the  gorge  of  the  street,  and  straight  at  him.  He  dived  into 
an  entrance,  and  stood  looking  at  the  animals  in  startled 
wonder  as  they  thundered  by,  flinging  the  mud  over  the 
pavements.  A  cursing  lot  of  drovers  on  ragged  horses 
made  the  rear  guard. 

Eliphalet  mopped  his  brow.     The  mules  seemed  to  have 


4  THE   CEISIS 

aroused  in  him  some  sense  of  his  atomity,  where  the  sight 
of  the  pillar  of  smoke  and  of  the  black  cattle  had  failed. 
The  feeling  of  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land  was  upon  him 
at  last.  A  strange  land,  indeed  !  Could  it  be  one  with  his 
native  New  England?  Did  Congress  assemble  from  the 
antipodes  ?  Wasn't  the  great,  ugly  river  and  dirty  city  at 
the  end  of  the  earth,  to  be  written  about  in  Boston  journals  ? 

Turning  in  the  doorway,  he  saw  to  his  astonishment  a 
great  store,  with  high  ceilings  supported  by  columns.  The 
floor  was  stacked  high  with  bales  of  dry  goods.  Beside 
him  was  a  sign  in  gold  lettering,  "  Carvel  and  Company, 
Wholesale  Dry  Goods."  And  lastly,  looking  down  upon 
him  with  a  quizzical  expression,  was  a  gentleman.  There 
was  no  mistaking  the  gentleman.  He  was  cool,  which 
Eliphalet  was  not.  And  the  fact  is  the  more  remarkable 
because  the  gentleman  was  attired  according  to  the  fash 
ion  of  the  day  for  men  of  his  age,  in  a  black  coat  with  a 
deal  of  ruffled  shirt  showing,  and  a  heavy  black  stock 
wound  around  his  collar.  He  had  a  white  mustache, 
and  a  goatee,  and  white  hair  under  his  black  felt  hat. 
His  face  was  long,  his  nose  straight,  and  the  sweetness  of 
his  smile  had  a  strange  effect  upon  Eliphalet,  who  stood 
on  one  foot. 

"  Well,  sonny,  scared  of  mules,  are  you  ?  "  The  speech 
is  a  stately  drawl  very  different  from  the  nasal  twang  of 
Eliphalet's  bringing  up.  "  Reckon  you  don't  come  from 
anywhere  round  here  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Eliphalet.  "  From  Willesden,  Massa 
chusetts." 

"  Come  in  on  the  Louisiana  ?  " 

"  Yers,  sir."     But  why  this  politeness? 

The  elderly  gentleman  lighted  a  cigar.  The  noise  of  the 
rushing  mules  had  now  become  a  distant  roar,  like  a  whirl 
wind  which  has  swept  by.  But  Eliphalet  did  not  stir. 

"  Friends  in  town  ?  "  inquired  the  gentleman  at  length. 

"  No,  sir,"  sighed  Mr.  Hopper. 

At  this  point  of  the  conversation  a  crisp  step  sounded 
from  behind,  and  the  wonderful  smile  came  again  on  the 
surface. 


WHICH   DEALS  WITH   ORIGINS  5 

"  Mornin',  Colonel,"  said  a  voice  which  made  Eliphalet 
jump.  And  he  swung  around  to  perceive  the  young  cap 
tain  of  the  Louisiana. 

"  Why,  Captain  Lige,"  cried  the  Colonel,  without  cere 
mony,  "  and  how  do  you  find  yourself  to-day,  suh  ?  A  good 
trip  from  Orleans  ?  We  did  not  look  for  you  so  soon." 

"  Tolluble,  Colonel,  tolluble,"  said  the  young  man, 
grasping  the  Colonel's  hand.  "  Well,  Colonel,  I  just 
called  to  say  that  I  got  the  seventy  bales  of  goods  you 
wanted." 

"  Ephum  !  "  cried  the  Colonel,  diving  toward  a  counter 
where  glasses  were  set  out,  —  a  custom  new  to  Eliphalet, — 
u  Ephum,  some  of  that  very  particular  Colonel  Critten- 
den  sent  me  over  from  Kentucky  last  week." 

An  old  darkey,  with  hair  as  white  as  the  Colonel's, 
appeared  from  behind  the  partition. 

"  I  'lowed  you'd  want  it,  Marse  Comyn,  when  I  seed  de 
Cap'n  com  in',"  said  he,  with  the  privilege  of  an  old  ser 
vant.  Indeed,  the  bottle  was  beneath  his  arm. 

The  Colonel  smiled. 

"  Hope  you'se  well,  Cap'n,"  said  Ephum,  as  he  drew 
the  cork. 

"  Tolluble,  Ephum,"  replied  the  Captain.  "  But,  Ephum  ! 
Say,  Ephum  !  " 

"  Yes,  sah." 

"  How's  my  little  sweetheart,  Ephum  ?  " 

"  Bress  your  soul,  sah,"  said  Ephum,  his  face  falling 
perceptibly,  "  Bress  your  soul,  sah,  Miss  Jinny's  done  gone 
to  Halcyondale,  in  Kaintuck,  to  see  her  grandma.  Ole 
Ephum  ain't  de  same  nigger  when  she's  away." 

The  young  Captain's  face  showed  as  much  disappoint 
ment  as  the  darkey's. 

"  Cuss  it !  "  said  he,  strongly,  "  if  that  ain't  too  bad ! 
I  brought  her  a  Creole  doll  from  New  Orleans,  which 
Madame  Claire  said  was  dressed  finer  than  any  one  she'd 
ever  seen.  All  lace  and  French  gewgaws,  Colonel.  But 
you'll  send  it  to  her." 

"  That  I  will,  Lige,"  said  the  Colonel,  heartily.  "  And 
she  shall  write  you  the  prettiest  n ote  of  thanks  you  ever  got. " 


6  THE   CRISIS 

"  Bless  her  pretty  face,"  cried  the  Captain.  "  Her 
health,  Colonel  !  Here's  a  long  life  to  Miss  Virginia 
Carvel,  and  may  she  rule  forever  !  How  old  did  you  say 
this  was  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  into  the  glass. 

"  Over  half  a  century,"  said  Colonel  Carvel. 

"  If  it  came  from  the  ruins  of  Pompeii,"  cried  Captain 
Brent,  "  it  might  be  worthy  of  her  !  " 

"  What  an  idiot  you  are  about  that  child,  Lige,"  said 
the  Colonel,  who  was  not  hiding  his  pleasure.  The 
Colonel  could  hide  nothing.  "  You  ruin  her  !  " 

The  bluff  young  Captain  put  down  his  glass  to  laugh. 

"  Ruin  her  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Her  pa  don't  ruin  her  ! 
eh,  Ephum?  Her  pa  don't  ruin  her  !  " 

"  Lawsy,  Marse  Lige,  I  reckon  he's  wuss'n  any." 

"  Ephum,"  said  the  Colonel,  pulling  his  goatee  thought 
fully,  "  you're  a  damned  impertinent  nigger.  I  vow  I'll 
sell  you  South  one  of  these  days.  Have  you  taken  that 
letter  to  Mr.  Renault  ?  "  He  winked  at  his  friend  as  the 
old  darkey  faded  into  the  darkness  of  the  store,  and  con 
tinued  :  "  Did  I  ever  tell  you  about  Wilson  Peale's  por 
trait  of  my  grandmother,  Dorothy  Carvel,  that  I  saw  this 
summer  at  my  brother  Daniel's,  in  Pennsylvania?  Jinny's 
going  to  look  something  like  her,  sir.  Urn  !  She  was  a 
fine  woman.  Black  hair,  though.  Jinny's  is  brown,  like 
her  Ma's."  The  Colonel  handed  a  cigar  to  Captain  Brent, 
and  lit  one  himself.  "  Daniel  has  a  book  my  grandfather 
wrote,  mostly  about  her.  Lord,  I  remember  her  !  She 
"was  the  queen-bee  of  the  family  while  she  lived.  I  wish 
some  of  us  had  her  spirit." 

'  "Colonel,"  remarked  Captain  Lige,  "what's  this  I  heard 
on  the  levee  just  now  about  your  shootin'  at  a  man  named 
Babcock  on  the  steps  here  ?  " 

The  Colonel  became  very  grave.  His  face  seemed  to 
grow  longer  as  he  pulled  his  goatee. 

"  He  was  standing  right  where  you  are,  sir,"  he  replied 
(Captain  Lige  moved),  "and  he  proposed  that  I  should 
buy  his  influence." 

"What  did  you  do?" 

Colonel    Carvel    laughed   quietly   at    the    recollection. 


WHICH   DEALS   WITH   ORIGINS  1 

44  Shucks,"  said  he,  "  I  just  pushed  him  into  the  street, 
gave  him  a  little  start,  and  put  a  bullet  past  his  ear,  just 
to  let  the  trash  know  the  sound  of  it.  Then  Russell  went 
down  and  bailed  me  out." 

The  Captain  shook  with  laughter.  But  Mr.  Eliphalet 
Hopper's  eyes  were  glued  to  the  mild-mannered  man  who 
told  the  story,  and  his  hair  rose  under  his  hat. 

44  By  the  way,  Lige,  how's  that  boy,  Tato  ?  Some 
how  after  I  let  you  have  him  on  the  Louisiana,  I  thought 
I'd  made  a  mistake  to  let  him  run  the  river.  Easter's 
afraid  he'll  lose  the  little  religion  she  taught  him." 

It  was  the  Captain's  turn  to  be  grave. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Colonel,"  said  he ;  "  we  have  to  have 
hands,  of  course.  But  somehow  I  wish  this  business  of 
slavery  had  never  been  started !  " 

44  Sir,"  said  the  Colonel,  with  some  force,  44  God  made 
the  sons  of  Ham  the  servants  of  Japheth's  sons  forever 
and  forever." 

44  Well,  well,  we  won't  quarrel  about  that,  sir,"  said 
Brent,  quickly.  44  If  they  all  treated  slaves  as  you  do, 
there  wouldn't  be  any  cry  from  Boston-way.  And  as  for 
me,  I  need  hands.  I  shall  see  you  again,  Colonel." 

44  Take  supper  with  me  to-night,  Lige,"  said  Mr. 
Carvel.  44 1  reckon  you'll  find  it  rather  lonesome  without 
Jinny." 

44  Awful  lonesome,"  said  the  Captain.  "But  you'll  show 
me  her  letters,  won't  you  ?  " 

He  started  out,  and  ran  against  Eliphalet. 

44  Hello  !  "  he  cried.     44  Who's  this  ?  " 

44  A  young  Yankee  you  landed  here  this  morning,  Lige," 
said  the  Colonel.  44  What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  " 

44  Humph  !  "  exclaimed  the  Captain. 

44  He  has  no  friends  in  town,  and  he  is  looking  for  em 
ployment.  Isn't  that  so,  sonny  ? "  asked  the  Colonel, 
kindly.* 

"Yes." 

44  Come,  Lige,  would  you  take  him  ?  "  said  Mr.  Carvel. 

The  young  Captain  looked  into  Eliphalet's  face.  The 
dart  that  shot  from  his  eyes  was  of  an  aggressive  hon- 


8  THE   CRISIS 

esty;  and  Mr.  Hopper's,  after  an  attempt  at  defiance, 
were  dropped. 

"  No,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Why  not,  Lige  ?  " 

"  Well,  for  one  thing,  he's  been  listening,"  said  Captain 
Lige,  as  he  departed. 

Colonel  Carvel  began  to  hum  softly  to  himself  :  — 

"  '  One  said  it  was  an  owl,  and  the  other  he  said  nay, 
One  said  it  was  a  church  with  the  steeple  torn  away, 
Look  a'  there  now  ! ' 

"  I  reckon  you're  a  rank  abolitionist,"  said  he  to  Eliphalet, 
abruptly. 

"  I  don't  see  any  particular  harm  in  keepin'  slaves,"  Mr. 
Hopper  replied,  shifting  to  the  other  foot. 

Whereupon  the  Colonel  stretched  his  legs  apart,  seized 
his  goatee,  pulled  his  head  down,  and  gazed  at  him  for 
some  time  from  under  his  eyebrows,  so  searchingly  that 
the  blood  flew  to  Mr.  Hopper's  fleshy  face.  He  mopped 
it  with  a  dark-red  handkerchief,  stared  at  everything  in 
the  place  save  the  gentleman  in  front  of  him,  and  won 
dered  whether  he  had  ever  in  his  life  been  so  uncomfort 
able.  Then  he  smiled  sheepishly,  hated  himself,  and  began 
to  hate  the  Colonel. 

"  Ever  hear  of  the  Liberator  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Hopper. 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ? "  This  was  downright 
directness,  from  which  there  was  no  escape. 

"Willesden,  Massachusetts." 

"  Umph  !     And  never  heard  of  Mr.  Garrison  ?  " 

"I've  had  to  work  all  my  life." 

"  What  can  you  do,  sonny  ?  " 

"  I  callate  to  sweep  out  a  store.  I  have  kept  books," 
Mr.  Hopper  vouchsafed. 

"  Would  you  like  work  here?"  asked  the  Colonel,  kindly. 

The  green  eyes  looked  up  swiftly,  and  down  again. 

"  What'll  you  give  me  ?  " 

The  good  man  was  surprised.  "  Well,"  said  he,  "  seven 
dollars  a  week." 


WHICH   DEALS   WITH   ORIGINS  9 

Many  a  time  in  after  life  had  the  Colonel  reason  to  think 
over  this  scene.  He  was  a  man  the  singleness  of  whose 
motives  could  not  be  questioned.  The  one  and  sufficient 
reason  for  giving  work  to  a  homeless  boy,  from  the  hated 
state  of  the  Liberator,  was  charity.  The  Colonel  had  his 
moods,  like  many  another  worthy  man. 

The  small  specks  on  the  horizon  sometimes  grow  into 
the  hugest  of  thunder  clouds.  And  an  act  of  charity,  out 
of  the  wisdom  of  God,  may  produce  on  this  earth  either 
good  or  evil. 

Eliphalet  closed  with  the  bargain.  Ephum  was  called 
and  told  to  lead  the  recruit  to  the  presence  of  Mr.  Hood, 
the  manager.  And  he  spent  the  remainder  of  a  hot  day 
checking  invoices  in  the  shipping  entrance  on  Second 
Street. 

It  is  not  our  place  here  to  chronicle  Eliphalet's  faults. 
Whatever  he  may  have  been,  he  was  not  lazy.  But  he  was 
an  anomaly  to  the  rest  of  the  young  men  in  the  store,  for 
those  were  days  when  political  sentiments  decided  fervent 
loves  or  hatreds.  In  two  days  was  Eliphalet's  reputation 
for  wisdom  made.  During  that  period  he  opened  his 
mouth  to  speak  but  twice.  The  first  was  an  answer  to  a 
pointless  question  of  Mr.  Barbo's  (cetat  25),  to  the  effect 
that  he,  Eliphalet  Hopper,  was  a  Pierce  Democrat,  who 
looked  with  complacency  on  the  extension  of  slavery. 
This  was  wholly  satisfactory,  and  saved  the  owner  of  these 
sentiments  a  broken  head.  The  other  time  Eliphalet 
spoke  was  to  ask  Mr.  Barbo  to  direct  him  to  a  boarding- 
house. 

"I  reckon,"  Mr.  Barbo  reflected,  "that  you'll  want  one 
of  them  Congregational  boarding-houses.  We've  got  a 
heap  of  Yankees  in  the  town,  and  they  all  flock  together 
and  pray  together.  I  reckon  you'd  ruther  go  to  Miss 
Crane's  nor  anywhere." 

Forthwith  to  Miss  Crane's  Eliphalet  went.  And  that 
lady,  being  a  Greek  herself,  knew  a  Greek  when  she  saw 
one.  The  kind-hearted  Barbo  lingered  in  the  gathering 
darkness  to  witness  the  game  which  ensued,  a  game  dear  to 
all  New  Englanders,  comical  to  Barbo.  The  two  contest- 


10  .        THE   CEISIS 

ants  calculated.  Barbo  reckoned,  and  put  his  money  on 
his  new-found  fellow-clerk.  Eliphalet,  indeed,  never 
showed  to  better  advantage.  The  shyness  he  had  used 
with  the  Colonel,  and  the  taciturnity  practised  on  his 
fellow-clerks,  he  slipped  off  like  coat  and  waistcoat  for 
the  battle.  The  scene  was  in  the  front  yard  of  the  third 
house  in  Dorcas  Row.  Everybody  knows  where  Dorcas 
Row  was.  Miss  Crane,  tall,  with  all  the  severity  of  side 
curls  and  bombazine,  stood  like  a  stone  lioness  at  the 
gate.  In  the  background,  by  the  steps,  the  boarders  sat, 
an  interested  group.  Eliphalet  girded  up  his  loins,  and 
sharpened  his  nasal  twang  to  cope  with  hers.  The  pre 
liminary  sparring  was  an  exchange  of  compliments,  and 
deceived  neither  party.  It  seemed  rather  to  heighten 
mutual  respect. 

"  You  be  from  Willesden,  eh  ?  "  said  Crane.  "  I  calcu 
late  you  know  the  Salters." 

If  the  truth  were  known,  this  evidence  of  an  apparent 
omniscience  rather  staggered  Eliphalet.  But  training 
stood  by  him,  and  he  showed  no  dismay.  Yes,  he  knew 
the  Salters,  and  had  drawed  many  a  load  out  of  Hiram 
Salters'  wood-lot  to  help  pay  for  his  schooling. 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Miss  Crane,  innocently  ;  "  who  was 
it  one  of  them  Salters  girls  married,  and  lived  across 
the  way  from  the  meetin'-house  ?  " 

"  Spauldin',"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  Wai,  I  want  t'  know  !  "  cried  the  spinster ;  "  not  Ezra 
Spauldin'  ?  " 

Eliphalet  nodded.  That  nod  was  one  of  infinite  shrewd 
ness  which  commended  itself  to  Miss  Crane.  These  cour 
tesies,  far  from  making  awkward  the  material  discussion 
which  followed,  did  not  affect  it  in  the  least. 

"  So  you  want  me  to  board  you  ?  "  said  she,  as  if  in  con 
sternation. 

Eliphalet  calculated,  if  they  could  come  to  terms.  And 
Mr.  Barbo  keyed  himself  to  enjoyment. 

"  Single  gentlemen,"  said  she,  "  pay  as  high  as  twelve 
dollars."  And  she  added  that  they  had  no  cause  to  com 
plain  of  her  table. 


WHICH   DEALS   WITH   ORIGINS  11 

Eliphalet  said  he  guessed  he'd  have  to  go  somewhere 
else.  Upon  this  the  lady  vouchsafed  the  explanation  that 
those  gentlemen  had  high  positions  and  rented  her  large 
rooms.  Since  Mr.  Hopper  was  from  Willesden  and  knew 
the  Salters,  she  would  be  willing  to  take  him  for  less. 
Eliphalet  said  bluntly  he  would  give  three  and  a  half. 
Barbo  gasped.  This  particular  kind  of  courage  was 
wholly  beyond  him. 

Half  an  hour  later  Eliphalet  carried  his  carpet-bag  up 
three  flights  and  put  it  down  in  a  tiny  bedroom  under 
the  eaves,  still  pulsing  with  heat  waves.  Here  he  was  to 
live,  and  eat  at  Miss  Crane's  table  for  the  consideration 
of  four  dollars  a  week. 

Such  is  the  story  of  the  humble  beginning  of  one  sub 
stantial  prop  of  the  American  Nation.  And  what  a  hack 
neyed  story  it  is  !  How  many  other  young  men  from  the 
East  have  travelled  across  the  mountains  and  floated 
clown  the  rivers  to  enter  those  strange  cities  of  the  West, 
the  growth  of  which  was  like  Jonah's  gourd. 

Two  centuries  before,  when  Charles  Stuart  walked  out 
of  a  window  in  Whitehall  Palace  to  die  ;  when  the  great 
English  race  was  in  the  throes  of  a  Civil  War  ;  when  the 
Stern  and  the  Gay  slew  each  other  at  Naseby  and  Marston 
Moor,  two  currents  flowed  across  the  Atlantic  to  the  New 
World.  Then  the  Stern  men  found  the  stern  climate,  and 
the  Gay  found  the  smiling  climate. 

After  many  years  the  streams  began  to  move  again,  — 
westward,  ever  westward.  Over  the  ever  blue  mountains 
from  the  wonderland  of  Virginia  into  the  greater  wonder 
land  of  Kentucky.  And  through  the  marvels  of  the  Inland 
Seas,  and  by  white  conestogas  threading  flat  forests  and 
floating  over  wide  prairies,  until  the  two  tides  met  in  a 
maelstrom  as  fierce  as  any  in  the  great  tawny  torrent  of 
the  strange  Father  of  Waters.  A  city  founded  by  Pierre 
Laclede,  a  certain  adventurous  subject  of  Louis  who  dealt  in 
furs,  and  who  knew  not  Marly  or  Versailles,  was  to  be  the 
place  of  the  mingling  of  the  tides.  After  cycles  of  sepa 
ration,  Puritan  and  Cavalier  united  on  this  clay-bank  in 


12  THE '  CRISIS 

the  Louisiana  Purchase,  and  swept  westward  together. 
Like  the  struggle  of  two  great  rivers  when  they  meet, 
the  waters  for  a  while  were  dangerous. 

So  Eliphalet  was  established,  among  the  Puritans,  at 
Miss  Crane's.  The  dishes  were  to  his  taste.  Brown  bread 
and  beans  and  pies  were  plentiful,  for  it  was  a  land  of 
plenty.  All  kinds  of  Puritans  were  there,  and  they  at 
tended  Mr.  Davitt's  Congregational  Church.  And  may 
it  be  added  in  justice  to  Mr.  Hopper,  that  he  became  not 
the  least  devout  of  the  boarders. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE  MOLE 

FOR  some  years,  while  Stephen  A.  Douglas  and  Frank 
lin  Pierce  and  other  gentlemen  of  prominence  were  play 
ing  at  bowls  on  the  United  States  of  America ;  while 
Kansas  was  furnishing  excitement  free  of  charge  to  any 
citizen  who  loved  sport,  Mr.  Eliphalet  Hopper  was  at 
work  like  the  industrious  mole,  underground.  It  is  safe 
to  affirm  that  Colonel  Carvel  forgot  his  new  hand  as  soon 
as  he  had  turned  him  over  to  Mr.  Hood,-  the  manager. 
As  for  Mr.  Hopper,  he  was  content.  We  can  ill  afford  to 
dissect  motives.  Genius  is  willing  to  lay  the  foundations 
of  her  structure  unobserved. 

At  first  it  was  Mr.  Barbo  alone  who  perceived  Elipha- 
let's  greatness,  —  Mr.  Barbo,  whose  opinions  were  so  easily 
had  that  they  counted  for  nothing.  The  other  clerks,  to 
say  the  least,  found  the  newcomer  uncompanionable. 
He  had  no  time  for  skylarking,  the  heat  of  the  day 
meant  nothing  to  him,  and  he  was  never  sleepy.  He 
learned  the  stock  as  if  by  intuition,  and  such  was  his 
strict  attention  to  business  that  Mr.  Hood  was  heard  to 
say,  privately,  he  did  not  like  the  looks  of  it.  A  .young 
man  should  have  other  interests.  And  then,  although  he 
would  not  hold  it  against  him,  he  had  heard  that  Mr. 
Hopper  was  a  teacher  in  Mr.  Davitt's  Sunday  School. 

Because  he  did  not  discuss  his  ambitions  at  dinner  with 
the  other  clerks  in  the  side  entry,  it  must  not  be  thought 
that  Eliphalet  was  without  other  interests.  He  was  like 
wise  too  shrewd  to  be  dragged  into  political  discussions 
at  the  boarding-house  table.  He  listened  imperturbably 
to  the  outbursts  against  the  Border  Ruffian,  and  smiled 
when  Mr.  Abner  Reed,  in  an  angry  passion,  asked  him 

13 


14  THE   CEISIS 

to  declare  whether  or  not  he  was  a  friend  of  the  Divine 
Institution.  After  a  while  they  forgot  about  him  (all 
save  Miss  Crane),  which  was  what  Mr.  Hopper  of  all 
things  desired. 

One  other  friend  besides  Miss  Crane  did  Eliphalet  take 
unto  himself,  wherein  he  showed  much  discrimination. 
This  friend  was  none  other  than  Mr.  Davitt,  minister 
for  many  years  of  the  Congregational  Church.  For 
Mr.  Davitt  was  a  good-  man,  zealous  in  his  work,  unpre 
tentious,  and  kindly.  More  than  once  Eliphalet  went  to 
his  home  to  tea,  and  was  pressed  to  talk  about  himself  and 
his  home  life.  The  minister  and  his  wife  were  invariably 
astonished,  after  their  guest  was  gone,  at  the  meagre 
result  of  their  inquiries. 

If  Love  had  ever  entered  such  a  discreet  soul  as  that 
into  which  we  are  prying,  he  used  a  back  entrance.  Even 
Mr.  Barbo's  inquiries  failed  in  the  discovery  of  any  young 
person  with  whom  Eliphalet  ukept  company."  What 
ever  the  notions  abroad  concerning  him,  he  was  admittedly 
a  model.  There  are  many  kinds  of  models.  With  some 
young  ladies  at  the  Sunday  School,  indeed,  he  had  a  dis 
tant  bowing  acquaintance.  They  spoke  of  him  as  the 
young  man  who  knew  the  Bible  as  thoroughly  as  Mr. 
Davitt  himself.  The  only  time  that  Mr.  Hopper  was 
discovered  showing  embarrassment  was  when  Mr.  Davitt 
held  his  hand  before  them  longer  than  necessary  on  the 
church  steps.  Mr.  Hopper  was  not  sentimental. 

However  fascinating  the  subject,  I  do  not  propose  to 
make  a  whole  book  about  Eliphalet.  Yet  sidelights  on 
the  life  of  every  great  man  are  interesting.  And  there 
are  a  few  incidents  in  his  early  career  which  have  not 
gotten  into  the  subscription  biographical  Encyclopaedias. 
In  several  of  these  volumes,  to  be  sure,  we  may  see  steel 
engravings  of  him,  true  likenesses  all.  His  was  the  type 
of  face  which  is  the  glory  of  the  steel  engraving,  — square 
and  solid,  as  a  corner-stone  should  be.  The  very  clothes 
he  wore  were  made  for  the  steel  engraving,  stiff  and  wiry 
in  texture,  with  sharp  angles  at  the  shoulders,  and  som 
bre  in  hue,  as  befit  such  grave  creations. 


THE   MOLE  15 

Let  us  go  back  to  a  certain  fine  morning  in  the  Septem 
ber  of  the  year  1857,  when  Mr.  Hopper  had  arrived,  all 
unnoticed,  at  the  age  of  two  and  thirty.  Industry  had 
told.  He  was  now  the  manager's  assistant ;  and,  be  it 
said  in  passing,  knew  more  about  the  stock  than  Mr.  Hood 
himself.  On  this  particular  morning,  about  nine  o'clock, 
he  was  stacking  bolts  of  woollen  goods  near  that  delec 
table  counter  where  the  Colonel  was  wont  to  regale  his 
principal  customers,  when  a  vision  appeared  in  the  door. 
Visions  were  rare  at  Carvel  &  Company's.  This  one  was 
followed  by  an  old  negress  with  leathery  wrinkles,  whose 
smile  was  joy  incarnate.  They  entered  the  store,  paused 
at  the  entrance  to  the  Colonel's  private  office,  and  sur 
veyed  it  with  dismay. 

"  'Clar  t'  goodness,  Miss  Jinny,  yo'  pa  ain't  heah  !  An' 
whah's  Ephum,  dat  black  good-fo'-nuthin' !  " 

Miracle  number  one,  —  Mr.  Hopper  stopped  work  and 
stared.  The  vision  was  searching  the  store  with  her  eyes, 
and  pouting. 

"  How  mean  of  Pa !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  when  I  took  all 
this  trouble  to  surprise  him,  not  to  be  here  !  Where  are 
they  all?  Where's  Ephum?  Where's  Mr.  Hood?" 

The  eyes  lighted  on  Eliphalet.  His  blood  was  sluggish, 
but  it  could  be  made  to  beat  faster.  The  ladies  he  had 
met  at  Miss  Crane's  were  not  of  this  description.  As  he 
came  forward,  embarrassment  made  him  shamble,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  angrily  conscious  of  a  poor 
figure.  Her  first  question  dashed  out  the  spark  of  his  zeal. 

"Oh,"  said  she,  "are  you  employed  here?" 

Thoughtless  Virginia !  You  little  know  the  man  you 
have  insulted  by  your  haughty  drawl. 

"Yes." 

"Then  find  Mr.  Carvel,  won't  you,  please?  And  tell 
him  that  his  daughter  has  come  from  Kentucky,  and  is 
waiting  for  him." 

"  I  callate  Mr.  Carvel  won't  be  here  this  morning,"  said 
Eliphalet.  He  went  back  to  the  pile  of  dry  goods,  and 
began  to  work.  But  he  was  unable  to  meet  the  displeas 
ure  in  her  face. 


16  THE   CRISIS 

"  What  is  your  name?"  Miss  Carvel  demanded. 

"Hopper." 

"Then,  Mr.  Hopper,  please  find  Ephum,  or  Mr.  Hood." 

Two  more  bolts  were  taken  off  the  truck.  Out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye  he  watched  her,  and  she  seemed  very 
tall,  like  her  father.  She  was  taller  than  he,  in  fact. 

"  I  ain't  a  servant,  Miss  Carvel,"  he  said,  with  a  mean 
ing  glance  at  the  negress. 

44  Laws,  Miss  Jinny,"  cried  she,  "I  may  's  'ell  find  Ephum. 
I  knows  he's  loafin'  somewhar  hereabouts.  An'  I  ain't 
seed  him  dese  five  month."  And  she  started  for  the  back 
of  the  store. 

"  Mammy  ! " 

The  old  woman  stopped  short.  Eliphalet,  electrified, 
looked  up  and  instantly  down  again. 

"  You  say  you  are  employed  by  Mr.  Carvel,  and  refuse 
to  do  what  I  ask  ?  " 

"I  ain't  a  servant,"  Mr.  Hopper  repeated  doggedly. 
He  felt  that  he  was  in  the  right,  —  and  perhaps  he  was. 

It  was  at  this  critical  juncture  in  the  proceedings  that 
a  young  man  stepped  lightly  into  the  store  behind  Miss 
Jinny.  Mr.  Hopper's  eye  was  on  him,  and  had  taken  in 
the  details  of  his  costume  before  realizing  the  import  of  his 
presence.  He  was  perhaps  twenty,  and  wore  a  coat  that 
sprung  in  at  the  waist,  and  trousers  of  a  light  buff-color 
that  gathered  at  the  ankle  and  were  very  copious  above. 
His  features  were  of  the  straight  type  which  has  been 
called  from  time  immemorial  patrician.  He  had  dark 
hair  which  escaped  in  waves  from  under  his  hat,  and 
black  eyes  that  snapped  when  they  perceived  Miss  Vir 
ginia  Carvel.  At  sight  of  her,  indeed,  the  gold-headed 
cane  stopped  in  its  gyrations  in  midair. 

44  Why,  Jinny  !  "  he  cried  — 44  Jinny  !  " 

Mr.  Hopper  would  have  sold  his  soul  to  have  been  in 
the  young  man's  polished  boots,  to  have  worn  his  clothes, 
and  to  have  been  able  to  cry  out  to  the  young  lady, 44  Why, 
Jinny  !  " 

To  Mr.  Hopper's  surprise,  the  young  lady  did  not  turn 
around.  She  stood  perfectly  still.  But  a  red  flush  stole 


THE   MOLE  17 

upon  her  cheek,  and  laughter  was  dancing  in  her  eyes. 
Yet  she  did  not  move.  The  young  man  took  a  step  for 
ward,  and  then  stood  staring  at  her  with  such  a  comical 
expression  of  injury  on  his  face  as  was  too  much  for  Miss 
Jinny's  serenity.  She  laughed.  That  laugh  also  struck 
minor  chords  upon  Mr.  Hopper's  heart-strings. 

But  the  young  gentleman  very  properly  grew  angry. 

"  You've  no  right  to  treat  me  the  way  you  do,  Vir 
ginia,"  he  cried.  "  Why  didn't  you  let  me  know  that  you 
were  coining  home  ? "  His  tone  was  one  of  authority. 
"  You  didn't  come  from  Kentucky  alone  !  " 

"  I  had  plenty  of  attendance,  I  assure  you,"  said  Miss 
Carvel.  "  A  governor,  and  a  senator,  and  two  charming 
young  gentlemen  from  New  Orleans  as  far  as  Cairo, 
where  I  found  Captain  Lige's  boat.  And  Mr.  Brinsmade 
brought  me  here  to  the  store.  I  wanted  to  surprise  Pa," 
she  continued  rapidly,  to  head  off  the  young  gentleman's 
expostulations.  "  How  mean  of  him  not  to  be  here  !  " 

"  Allow  me  to  escort  you  home,"  said  he,  with  ceremony. 

"  Allow  me  to  decline  the  honah,  Mr.  Colfax,"  she 
cried,  imitating  him.  "  I  intend  to  wait  here  until  Pa 
comes  in." 

Then  Eliphalet  knew  that  the  young  gentleman  was 
Miss  Virginia's  first  cousin.  And  it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  heard  a  rumor,  amongst  the  clerks  in  the  store, 
that  she  was  to  marry  him  one  day. 

"  Where  is  Uncle  Comyn  ? "  demanded  Mr.  Colfax, 
swinging  his  cane  with  impatience. 

Virgina  looked  hard  at  Mr.  Hopper. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said. 

"  Ephum  !  "  shouted  Mr.  Colfax.  "  Ephum  !  Easter, 
where  the  deuce  is  that  good-for-nothing  husband  of 
yours  ?  " 

"  I  dunno,  Marse  Clarence.  'Spec  he  whah  he 
oughtn't  ter  be." 

Mr.  Colfax  spied  the  stooping  figure  of  Eliphalet. 

"  Do  you  work  here  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  callate." 

"  What  ?  " 


18  THE   CRISIS 

"  I  callate  to,"  responded  Mr.  Hopper  again,  without 
rising. 

"  Please  find  Mr.  Hood,"  directed  Mr.  Colfax,  with  a 
wave  of  his  cane,  "  and  say  that  Miss  Carvel  is  here  —  " 

Whereupon  Miss  Carvel  seated  herself  upon  the  edge 
of  a  bale  and  giggled,  which  did  not  have  a  soothing 
effect  upon  'either  of  the  young  men.  How  abominably 
you  were  wont  to  behave  in  those  days,  Virginia. 

"  Just  say  that  Mr.  Colfax  sent  you,"  Clarence  con 
tinued,  with  a  note  of  irritation.  "  There's  a  good 
fellow." 

Virginia  laughed  outright.  Her  cousin  did  not  deign 
to  look  at  her.  His  temper  was  slipping  its  leash. 

"  I  wonder  whether  you  hear  me,"  he  remarked. 

No  answer. 

"  Colonel  Carvel  hires  you,  doesn't  he  ?  He  pays  you 
wages,  and  the  first  time  his  daughter  comes  in  here 
you  refuse  to  do  her  a  favor.  By  thunder,  I'll  see  that 
you  are  dismissed." 

Still  Eliphalet  gave  him  no  manner  of  attention,  but 
began  marking  the  tags  at  the  bottom  of  the  pile. 

It  was  at  this  unpropitious  moment  that  Colonel  Carvel 
walked  into  the  store,  and  his  daughter  flew  into  his  arms. 

"Well,  well,"  he  said,  kissing  "her,  "thought  you'd 
surprise  me,  eh,  Jinny  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Pa,"  she  cried,  looking  reproachfully  up  at  his 
face.  "  You  knew  —  how  mean  of  you  !  " 

u  I've  been  down  on  the  Louisiana,  where  some  incon 
siderate  man  told  me,  or  I  should  not  have  seen  you  to 
day.  I  was  off  to  Alton.  But  what  are  these  goings-on  ?  " 
said  the  Colonel,  staring  at  young  Mr.  Colfax,  rigid  as 
one  of  his  own  gamecocks.  He  was  standing  defiantly 
over  the  stooping  figure  of  the  assistant  manager. 

"  Oh,"  said  Virginia,  indifferently,  "  it's  only  Clarence. 
He's  so  tiresome.  He's  always  wanting  to  fight  with 
somebody." 

"  What's  the  matter,  Clarence  ?  "  asked  the  Colonel, 
with  the  mild  concern  which  deceived  so  many  of  the 
undiscerning. 


«-i  t'lwfer  Ums 


tVT 


PLEASE  FIND  MR.  HOOD,'  DIRECTED  MR.  COLFAX" 


THE   MOLE  19 

"  This  person,  sir,  refused  to  do  a  favor  for  your  daugh 
ter.  She  told  him,  and  I  told  him,  to  notify  Mr.  Hood 
that  Miss  Carvel  was  here,  and  he  refused." 

Mr.  Hopper  continued  his  occupation,  which  was  absorb 
ing.  But  he  was  listening. 

Colonel  Carvel  pulled  his  goatee,  and  smiled. 

"  Clarence,"  said  he,  "  I  reckon  I  can  run  this  establish 
ment  without  any  help  from  you  and  Jinny.  I've  been 
at  it  now  for  a  good  many  years." 

If  Mr.  Barbo  had  not  been  constitutionally  unlucky,  he 
might  have  perceived  Mr.  Hopper,  before  dark  that  even 
ing,  in  conversation  with  Mr.  Hood  about  a  certain  cus 
tomer  who  lived  up  town,  and  presently  leave  the  store 
by  the  side  entrance.  He  walked  as  rapidly  as  his  legs 
would  carry  him,  for  they  were  a  trifle  short  for  his  body ; 
and  in  due  time,  as  the  lamps  were  flickering,  he  arrived 
near  Colonel  Carvel's  large  double  residence,  on  Tenth  and 
Locust  streets.  Then  he  walked  slowly  along  Tenth,  his 
eyes  lifted  to  the  tall,  curtained  windows.  Now  and  anon 
they  scanned  passers-by  for  a  chance  acquaintance. 

Mr.  Hopper  walked  around  the  block,  arriving  again 
opposite  the  Carvel  house,  and  beside  Mr.  Renault's,  which 
was  across  from  it.  Eliphalet  had  inherited  the  princi 
ple  of  mathematical  chances.  It  is  a  fact  that  the  dis 
creet  sometimes  take  chances.  Towards  the  back  of  Mr. 
Renault's  residence,  a  wide  area  was  sunk  to  the  depth  of 
a  tall  man,  which  was  apparently  used  for  the  purpose  of 
getting  coal  and  wood  into  the  cellar.  Mr.  Hopper  swept 
the  neighborhood  with  a  glance.  The  coast  was  clear, 
and  he  dropped  into  the  area. 

Although  the  evening  was  chill,  at  first  Mr.  Hopper 
perspired  very  freely.  He  crouched  in  the  area  while  the 
steps  of  pedestrians  beat  above  his  head,  and  took  no 
thought  but  of  escape.  At  last,  however,  he  grew  cooler, 
removed  his  hat,  and  peeped  over  the  stone  Coping. 
Colonel  Carvel's  house  —  her  house  —  was  now  ablaze 
with  lights,  and  the  shades  not  yet  drawn.  There  was 
the  dining  room,  where  the  negro  butler  was  moving 


20  THE   CRISIS 

about  the  table ;  and  the  pantry,  where  the  butler  went 
occasionally  ;  arid  the  kitchen,  with  black  figures  moving 
about.  But  upstairs  on  the  two  streets  was  the  sitting 
room.  The  straight  figure  of  the  Colonel  passed  across 
the  light.  He  held  a  newspaper  in  his  hand.  Suddenly, 
full  in  the  window,  he  stopped  and  "flung  away  the  paper. 
A  graceful  shadow  slipped  across  the  wall.  Virginia  laid 
her  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  he  stooped  to  kiss  her. 
Now  they  sat  between  the  curtains,  she  on  the  arm  of  his 
chair  and  leaning  on  him,  together  looking  out  of  the 
window. 

How  long  this  lasted  Mr.  Hopper  could  not  say.  Even 
the  wise  forget  themselves.  But  all  at  once  a  wagon 
backed  and  bumped  against  the  curb  in  front  of  him,  and 
Eliphalet's  head  dropped  as  if  it  had  been  struck  by  the 
wheel.  Above  him  a  sash  screamed  as  it  opened,  and  he 
heard  Mr.  Renault's  voice  say,  to  some  person  below  :  — 

"Is  that  you,  Capitaine  Grant?" 

"  The  same,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

"  I  am  charmed  that  you  have  brought  the  wood.  1 
thought  that  you  had  forgotten  me." 

"I  try  to  do  what  I  say,  Mr.  Renault." 

"  Attendez  —  wait !  "  cried  Mr.  Renault,  and  closed  the 
window. 

Now  was  Eliphalet's  chance  to  bolt.  The  perspiration 
had  come  again,  and  it  was  cold.  But  directly  the  excit 
able  little  man,  Renault,  had  appeared  on  the  pavement 
above  him.  He  had  been  running. 

"  It  is  a  long  voyage  from  Gravois  with  a  load  of  wood, 
Capitaine  —  I  am  very  grateful." 

"Business  is  business,  Mr.  Renault,"  was  the  self-con 
tained  reply. 

"  Alphonse ! "  cried  Mr.  Renault,  "Alphonse!"  A 
door  opened  in  the  back  wall.  "  Du  vin  pour  Monsieur 
le  Capitaine." 

"  Oui,  M'sieu." 

Eliphalet  was  too  frightened  to  wonder  why  this  taci 
turn  handler  of  wood  was  called  Captain,  and  treated  with 
such  respect. 


THE   MOLE  21 

"  Guess  I  won't  take  any  wine  to-night,  Mr.  Renault," 
said  he.  "  You  go  inside,  or  you'll  take  cold." 

Mr.  Renault  protested,  asked  about  all  the  residents  of 
Gravois  way,  and  finally  obeyed.  Eliphalet's  heart  was 
in  his  mouth.  A  bolder  spirit  would  have  dashed  for 
liberty.  Eliphalet  did  not  possess  that  kind  of  bravery. 
He  was  waiting  for  the  Captain  to  turn  toward  his  wagon. 

He  looked  down  the  area  instead,  with  the  light  from 
the  street  lamp  on  his  face.  Fear  etched  an  ineffaceable 
portrait  of  him  on  Mr.  Hopper's  mind,  so  that  he  knew 
him  instantly  when  he  saw  him  years  afterward.  Little 
did  he  reckon  that  the  fourth  time  he  was  to  see  him  this 
man  was  to  be  President  of  the  United  States.  He  wore 
a  close -cropped  beard,  an  old  blue  army  overcoat,  and  his 
trousers  were  tucked  into  a  pair  of  muddy  cowhide  boots. 

Swiftly  but  silently  the  man  reached  down  and  hauled 
Eliphalet  to  the  sidewalk  by  the  nape  of  the  neck. 

"  What  were  you  doing  there  ?  "  demanded  he  of  the 
blue  overcoat,  sternly. 

Eliphalet  did  not  answer.  With  one  frantic  wrench 
he  freed  himself,  and  ran  down  Locust  Street.  At  the 
corner,  turning  fearfully,  he  perceived  the  man  in  the 
overcoat  calmly  preparing  to  unload  his  wood. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE   UNATTAINABLE   SIMPLICITY 

To  Mr.  Hopper  the  being  caught  was  the  unpardonable 
crime.  And  indeed,  with  many  of  us,  it  is  humiliation 
and  not  conscience  which  makes  the  sting.  He  walked 
out  to  the  end  of  the  city's  growth  westward,  where  the 
new  houses  were  going  up.  He  had  reflected  coolly  on 
consequences,  and  found  there  were  none  to  speak  of. 
Many  a  moralist,  Mr.  Davitt  included,  would  have  shaken 
his  head  at  this.  Miss  Crane's  whole  Puritan  household 
would  have  raised  their  hands  in  horror  at  such  a  doctrine. 

Some  novelists  I  know  of,  who  are  in  reality  celebrated 
surgeons  in  disguise,  would  have  shown  a  good  part  of 
Mr.  Eliphalet  Hopper's  mental  insides  in  as  many  words 
as  I  have  taken  to  chronicle  his  arrival  in  St.  Louis. 
They  invite  us  to  attend  a  clinic,  and  the  horrible  skill 
with  which  they  wield  the  scalpel  holds  us  spellbound. 
For  God  has  made  all  of  us,  rogue  and  saint,  burglar  and 
burgomaster,  marvellously  alike.  We  read  a  patent 
medicine  circular  and  shudder  with  seven  diseases.  We 
peruse  one  of  Mr.  So  and  So's  intellectual  tonics  and  are 
sure  we  are  complicated  scandals,  fearfully  and  wonder 
fully  made. 

Alas,  I  have  neither  the  skill  nor  the  scalpel  to  show 
the  diseases  of  Mr.  Hopper's  mind ;  if,  indeed,  he  had  any. 
Conscience,  when  contracted,  is  just  as  troublesome  as 
croup.  Mr.  Hopper  was  thoroughly  healthy.  He  had 
ambition,  as  I  have  said.  But  he  was  not  morbidly  sen 
sitive.  He  was  cairn  enough  when  he  got  back  to  the 
boarding-house,  which  he  found  in  as  high  a  pitch  of  ex 
citement  as  New  Englanders  ever  reach. 

And  over  what  ? 

22 


THE   UNATTAINABLE   SIMPLICITY  23 

Over  the  prospective  arrival  that  evening  of  the  Brices, 
mother  and  son,  from  Boston.  Miss  Crane  had  received 
the  message  in  the  morning.  Palpitating  with  the  news, 
she  had  hurried  rustling  to  Mrs.  Abner  Reed,  with  the 
paper  in  her  hand. 

"  I  guess  you  don't  mean  Mrs.  Appleton  Brice,"  said 
Mrs.  Reed. 

"  That's  just  who  I  mean,"  answered  Miss  Crane,  trium 
phantly,  —  nay,  aggressively. 

Mrs.  Abner  shook  her  curls  in  a  way  that  made  people 
overwhelm  her  with  proofs. 

"  Mirandy,  you're  cracked,"  said  she.  "  Ain't  you  never 
been  to  Boston?" 

Miss  Crane  bridled.     This  was  an  uncalled-for  insult. 

"  I  guess  I  visited  down  Boston-way  oftener  than  you, 
Eliza  Reed.  You  never  had  any  clothes." 

Mrs.  Reed's  strength  was  her  imperturbability. 

"  And  you  never  set  eyes  on  the  Brice  house,  opposite 
the  Common,  with  the  swelled  front?  I'd  like  to  find  out 
where  you  were  a-visitin'.  And  you've  never  heard  tell 
of  the  Brice  homestead,  at  Westbury,  that  was  Colonel 
Wilton  Brice's,  who  fought  in  the  Revolution  ?  I'm 
astonished  at  you,  Mirandy.  When  I  used  to  be  at  the 
Dales',  in  Mount  Vernon  Street,  in  thirty-seven,  Mrs. 
Charles  Atterbury  Brice  used  to  come  there  in  her  car 
riage,  a-callin'.  She  was  Appleton's  mother.  Severe  ! 
Save  us,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Reed,  "but  she  was  stiff  as 
starched  crepe.  His  father  was  minister  to  France.  The 
Brices  were  in  the  India  trade,  and  they  had  money  enough 
to  buy  the  whole  of  St.  Louis." 

Miss  Crane  rattled  the  letter  in  her  hand.  She  brought 
forth  her  reserves. 

"  Yes,  and  Appleton  Brice  lost  it  all,  in  the  panic.  And 
then  he  died,  and  left  the  widow  and  son  without  a 
cent." 

Mrs.  Reed  took  off  her  spectacles. 

"  I  want  to  know  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  The  durned  fool ! 
Well,  Appleton  Brice  didn't  have  the  family  brains,  and 
he  was  kind  of  soft-hearted.  I've  heard  Mehitabel  Dale 


24  THE   CRISIS 

say  that."  She  paused  to  reflect.  "So  they're  coming 
here  ?  "  she  added.  "  I  wonder  why." 

Miss  Crane's  triumph  was  not  over. 

"  Because  Silas  Whipple  was  some  kin  to  Appleton 
Brice,  and  he  has  offered  the  boy  a  place  in  his  law  office." 

Miss  Reed  laid  down  her  knitting. 

"  Save  us  !  "  she  said.  "  This  is  a  day  of  wonders, 
Mirandy.  Now  Lord  help  the  boy  if  he's  goin'  to  work 
for  the  Judge." 

"  The  Judge  has  a  soft  heart,  if  he  is  crabbed,"  declared 
the  spinster.  "  I've  heard  say  of  a  good  bit  of  charity 
he's  done.  He's  a  soft  heart." 

"  Soft  as  a  green  quince  !  "  said  Mrs.  Abner,  scornfully. 
"  How  many  friends  has  he  ?  " 

"  Those  he  has  are  warm  enough,"  Miss  Crane  retorted. 
"  Look  at  Colonel  Carvel,  who  has  him  to  dinner  every 
Sunday." 

"That's  plain  as  your  nose,  Mirandy  Crane.  They 
both  like  quarrellin'  better  than  anything  in  this  world." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Crane,  "  I  must  go  make  ready  for 
the  Brices." 

Such  was  the  importance  of  the  occasion,  however,  that 
she  could  not  resist  calling  at  Mrs.  Merrill's  room,  and 
she  knocked  at  Mrs.  Chandler's  door  to  tell  that  lady  and 
her  daughter. 

No  Burke  has  as  yet  arisen  in  this  country  of  ours  to 
write  a  Peerage.  Fame  awaits  him.  Indeed,  it  was  even 
then  awaiting  him,  at  the  time  of  the  panic  of  1857. 
With  what  infinite  pains  were  the  pedigree  and  posses 
sions  of  the  Brice  family  pieced  together  that  day  by  the 
scattered  residents  from  Puritan-land  in  the  City  of  St. 
Louis.  And  few  buildings  would  have  borne  the  wear 
and  tear  of  many  house-cleanings  of  the  kind  Miss  Crane 
indulged  in  throughout  the  morning  and  afternoon.  • 

Mr.  Eliphalet  Hopper,  on  his  return  from  business,  was 
met  on  the  steps  and  requested  to  wear  his  Sunday 
clothes.  Like  the  good  republican  that  he  was,  Mr. 
Hopper  refused.  He  had  ascertained  that  the  golden 
charm  which  made  the  Brices  worthy  of  tribute  had  been 


THE   UNATTAINABLE   SIMPLICITY  25 

lost.  Commercial  supremacy,  —  that  was  Mr.  Hopper's 
creed.  Family  is  a  good  thing,  but  of  what  use  is  a  crest 
without  the  panels  on  which  to  paint  it  ?  Can  a  diamond 
brooch  shine  on  a  calico  gown  ?  Mr.  Hopper  deemed 
church  the  place  for  worship.  He  likewise  had  his  own 
idol  in  his  closet. 

Eliphalet  at  Willesden  had  heard  a  great  deal  of  Bos 
ton  airs  and  graces  and  intellectuality,  of  the  favored 
few  of  that  city  who  lived  in  mysterious  houses,  and  who 
crossed  the  sea  in  ships.  He  pictured  Mrs.  Brice  asking 
for  a  spoon,  and  young  Stephen  sniffing  at  Mrs.  Crane's 
boarding-house.  And  he  resolved  with  democratic  spirit 
that  he  would  teach  Stephen  a  lesson,  if  opportunity 
offered.  His  own  discrepancy  between  the  real  and  the 
imagined  was  no  greater  than  that  of  the  rest  of  his  fellow- 
boarders. 

Barring  Eliphalet,  there  was  a  dress  parade  that  even 
ing, —  silks  and  bombazines  and  broadcloths,  and  Miss 
Crane's  special  preserves  on  the  tea-table.  Alas,  that 
most  of  the  deserved  honors  of  this  world  should  fall  upon 
barren  ground  ! 

The  quality  which  baffled  Mr.  Hopper,  and  some  other 
boarders,  was  simplicity.  None  save  the  truly  great  pos 
sess  it  (but  this  is  not  generally  known).  Mrs.  Brice 
was  so  natural,  that  first  evening  at  tea,  that  all  were  dis 
appointed.  The  hero  upon  the  reviewing  stand  with  the 
halo  of  the  Unknown  behind  his  head  is  one  thing  ;  the 
lady  of  Family  who  sits  beside  you  at  a  boarding-house 
and  discusses  the  weather  and  the  journey  is  quite  another. 
They  were  prepared  to  hear  Mrs.  Brice  rail  at  the  dirt  of 
St.  Louis  and  the  crudity  of  the  West.  They  pictured 
her  referring  with  sighs  to  her  Connections,  and  bewail 
ing  that  Stephen  could  not  have  finished  his  course  at 
Harvard. 

She  did  nothing  of  the  sort. 

The  first  shock  was  so  great  that  Mrs.  Abner  Reed  cried 
in  the  privacy  of  her  chamber,  and  the  Widow  Crane  con 
fessed  her  disappointment  to  the  confiding  ear  of  her  bosom 
friend,  Mrs.  Merrill.  Not  many  years  later  a  man  named 


26  THE   CRISIS 

Grant  was  to  be  in  Springfield,  with  a  carpet  bag,  despised 
as  a  vagabond.  A  very  homely  man  named  Lincoln  went 
to  Cincinnati  to  try  a  case  before  the  Supreme  Court,  and 
was  snubbed  by  a  man  named  Stanton. 

When  we  meet  the  truly  great,  several  things  may  hap 
pen.  In  the  first  place,  we  begin  to  believe  in  their  luck, 
or  fate,  or  whatever  we  choose  to  call  it,  and  to  curse  our 
own.  We  begin  to  respect  ourselves  the  more,  and  to 
realize  that  they  are  merely  clay  like  us,  that  we  are  g^eat 
men  without  Opportunity.  Sometimes,  if  we  live  long 
enough  near  the  Great,  we  begin  to  have  misgivings. 
Then  there  is  hope  for  us. 

Mrs.  Brice,  with  her  simple  black  gowns,  quiet  manner, 
and  serene  face,  with  her  interest  in  others  and  none  in 
herself,  had  a  wonderful  effect  upon  the  boarders.  They 
were  nearly  all  prepared  to  be  humble.  They  grew  arro 
gant  and  pretentious.  They  asked  Mrs.  Brice  if  she  knew 
this  and  that  person  of  consequence  in  Boston,  with  whom 
they  claimed  relationship  or  intimacy.  Her  answers  were 
amiable  and  self-contained. 

But  what  shall  we  say  of  Stephen  Brice?  Let  us  con 
fess  at  once  that  it  is  he  who  is  the  hero  of  this  story,  and 
not  Eliphalet  Hopper.  It  would  be  so  easy  to  paint 
Stephen  in  shining  colors,  and  to  make  him  a  first-class 
prig  (the  horror  of  all  novelists),  that  we  must  begin 
with  the  drawbacks.  First  and  worst,  it  must  be  con 
fessed  that  Stephen  had  at  that  time  what  has  been  called 
"  the  Boston  manner."  This  was  not  Stephen's  fault,  but 
Boston's.  Young  Mr.  Brice  possessed  that  wonderful 
power  of  expressing  distance  in  other  terms  besides  ells 
and  furlongs,  —  and  yet  he  was  simple  enough  with  it  all. 

Many  a  furtive  stare  he  drew  from  the  table  that  even 
ing.  There  were  one  or  two  of  discernment  present, 
and  they  noted  that  his  were  the  generous  features  of  a 
marked  man,  —  if  he  chose  to  become  marked.  He  inher 
ited  his  mother's  look  ;  hers  was  the  face  of  a  strong 
woman,  wide  of  sympathy,  broad  of  experience,  showing 
peace  of  mind  amid  troubles  —  the  touch  of  femininity 
was  there  to  soften  it. 


THE    UNATTAINABLE    SIMPLICITY  27 

Her  son  had  the  air  of  the  college-bred.  In  these  sur 
roundings  he  escaped  arrogance  by  the  wonderful  kindli 
ness  of  his  eye,  which  lighted  when  his  mother  spoke  to 
him.  But  he  was  not  at  home  at  Miss  Crane's  table,  and 
he  made  no  attempt  to  appear  at  his  ease. 

This  was  an  unexpected  pleasure  for  Mr.  Eliphalet 
Hopper.  Let  it  not  be  thought  that  he  was  the  only  one 
at  that  table  to  indulge  in  a  little  secret  rejoicing.  But 
it  was  a  peculiar  satisfaction  to  him  to  reflect  that  these 
people,  who  had  held  up  their  heads  for  so  many  genera 
tions,  were  humbled  at  last.  To  be  humbled  meant,  in 
Mr.  Hopper's  philosophy,  to  lose  one's  money.  It  was 
thus  he  gauged  the  importance  of  his  acquaintances  ;  it 
was  thus  he  hoped  some  day  to  be  gauged.  And  he 
trusted  and  believed  that  the  time  would  come  when  he 
could  give  his  fillip  to  the  upper  rim  of  fortune's  wheel, 
and  send  it  spinning  downward. 

Mr.  Hopper  was  drinking  his  tea  and  silently  forming 
an  estimate.  He  concluded  that  young  Brice  was  not  the 
type  to  acquire  the  money  which  his  father  had  lost. 
And  he  reflected  that  Stephen  must  feel  as  strange  in  St. 
Louisas  a  cod  might  amongst  the  cat-fish  in  the  Mississippi. 
So  the  assistant  manager  of  Carvel  &  Company  resolved 
to  indulge  in  the  pleasure  of  patronizing  the  Bostonian. 

"  Callatin'  to  go  to  work  ? "  he  asked  him,  as  the 
boarders  walked  into  the  best  room. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Stephen,  taken  aback.  And  it  may  be 
said  here  that,  if  Mr.  Hopper  underestimated  him,  cer 
tainly  he  underestimated  Mr.  Hopper, 

"It  ain't  easy  to  get  a  job  this  Fall,"  said  Eliphalet. 
"St.  Louis  houses  have  felt  the  panic." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that." 

"  What  business  was  you  callatin'  to  grapple  with  ?  " 

"  Law,"  said  Stephen. 

"  Gosh  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hopper,  "I  want  to  know." 
In  reality  he  was  a  bit  chagrined,  having  pictured  with 
some  pleasure  the  Boston  aristocrat  going  from  store  to 
store  for  a  situation.  "  You  didn't  come  here  figurin'  on 
makin'  a  pile,  I  guess." 


28  THE   CRISIS 

"  A  what  ?  " 

"A  pile." 

Stephen  looked  down  and  over  Mr.  Hopper  attentively. 
He  took  in  the  blocky  shoulders  and  the  square  head, 
and  he  pictured  the  little  eyes  at  a  vanishing-point  in 
lines  of  a  bargain.  Then  humor  —  blessed  humor  —  came 
to  his  rescue.  He  had  entered  the  race  in  the  West, 
where  all  start  equal.  He  had  come  here,  like  this  man 
who  was  succeeding,  to  make  his  living.  Would  he 
succeed  ? 

Mr.  Hopper  drew  something  out  of  his  pocket,  eyed 
Miss  Crane,  and  bit  off  a  corner. 

"  What  office  was  you  going  into  ? "  he  asked  gen 
ially. 

Mr.  Brice  decided  to  answer  that. 

"  Judge    Whipple's  —  unless  he  has  changed  his  mind." 

Eliphalet  gave  him  a  look  more  eloquent  than  words. 

"  Know  the  Judge  ?  " 

"  No." 

Silent  laughter. 

"  If  all  the  Fourth  of  Julys  we've  had  was  piled  into 
one,"  said  Mr.  Hopper,  slowly  and  with  conviction,  "  they 
wouldn't  be  a  circumstance  to  Silas  Whipple  when  he 
gets  mad.  My  boss,  Colonel  Carvel,  is  the  only  man  in 
town  who'll  stand  up  to  him.  I've  seen  'em  begin  a 
quarrel  in  the  store  and  carry  it  all  the  way  up  the  street. 
I  callate  you  won't  stay  with  him  a  great  while." 


CHAPTER    IV 

BLACK    CATTLE 

LATER  that  evening  Stephen  Brice  was  sitting  by  the 
open  windows  in  his  mother's  room,  looking  silently  down 
on  the  street-lights  below. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  asked  the  lady,  at  length,  "  what  do 
you  think  of  it  all  ?  " 

"  They  are  kind  people,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  they  are  kind,"  she  assented,  with  a  sigh.  "  But 
they  are  not  —  they  are  not  from  among  our  friends, 
Stephen." 

"  I  thought  that  one  of  our  reasons  for  coming  West, 
mother,"  answered  Stephen. 

His  mother  looked  pained. 

"  Stephen,  how  can  you  !  We  came  West  in  order  that 
you  might  have  more  chance  for  the  career  to  which  you 
are  entitled.  Our  friends  in  Boston  were  more  than 
good." 

He  left  the  window  and  came  and  stood  behind  her 
chair,  his  hands  clasped  playfully  beneath  her  chin. 

"  Have  you  the  exact  date  about  you,  mother  ?  " 

"  What  date,  Stephen  ?  " 

"When  I  shall  leave  St.  Louis  for  the  United  States 
Senate.  And  you  must  not  forget  that  there  is  a  youth 
limit  in  our  Constitution  for  senators." 

Then  the  widow  smiled,  —  a  little  sadly,  perhaps.  But 
still  a  wonderfully  sweet  smile.  And  it  made  her  strong 
face  akin  to  all  that  was  human  and  helpful. 

"  I  believe  that  you  have  the  subject  of  my  first  speech 
in  that  august  assembly.  And,  by  the  way,  what  was 
it?" 

"  It  was  on  '  The  Status  of  the  Emigrant,' "  she  re- 

29 


30  THE   CRISIS 

sponded  instantly,  thereby  proving  that  she  was  his 
mother. 

"  And  it  touched  the  Rights  of  Privacy,"  he  added, 
laughing,  "  which  do  not  seem  to  exist  in  St.  Louis 
boarding-houses. " 

^  In  the  eyes  of  your  misguided  profession,  statesmen 
and  authors  and  emigrants  and  other  public  charges  have 
no  Rights  of  Privacy,"  -said  she.  "  Mr.  Longfellow  told 
me  once  that  they  were  to  name  a  brand  of  flour  for  him, 
and  that  he  had  no  redress." 

"  Have  you,  too,  been  up  before  Miss  Crane's  Commis 
sion  ?  "  he  asked,  with  amused  interest. 

His  mother  laughed. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  They  have  some  expert  members,"  he  continued. 
"  This  Mrs.  Abner  Reed  could  be  a  shining  light  in  any 
bar.  I  overheard  a  part  of  her  cross-examination.  She 

—  she  had  evidently  studied  our  case  —  " 

"  My  dear,"  answered  Mrs.  Brice,  "  I  suppose  they 
know  all  about  us."  She  was  silent  a  moment — "I  had 
so  hoped  that  they  wouldn't.  They  lead  the  same  narrow 
life  in  this  house  that  they  did  in  their  little  New  England 
towns.  They  —  they  pity  us,  Stephen." 

"  Mother  ! '" 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  find  so  many  New  Englanders  here 

—  I  wish  that  Mr.  Whipple  had  directed  us  elsewhere  —  " 
"  He  probably  thought  that  we  should  feel  at  home 

among  New  Englanders.  I  hope  the  Southerners  will  be 
more  considerate.  I  believe  they  will,"  he  added. 

"They  are  very  proud,"  said  his  mother.  "A  wonderful 
people,  —  born  aristocrats.  You  don't  remember  those 
Randolphs  with  whom  we  travelled  through  England. 
They  were  with  us  at  Hollingdean,  Lord  Northwell's  place. 
You  were  too  small  at  the  time.  There  was  a  young  girl, 
Eleanor  Randolph,  a  beauty.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
way  she  entered  those  English  drawing-rooms.  They 
visited  us  once  in  Beacon  Street,  afterwards.  And  I  have 
heard  that  there  are  a  great  many  good  Southern  families 
here  in  St.  Louis." 


BLACK   CATTLE  31 

"  You  did  not  glean  that  from  Judge  Whipple's  letter, 
mother,"  said  Stephen,  mischievously. 

"  He  was  very  frank  in  his  letter,"  sighed  Mrs.  Brice. 

"  I  imagine  he  is  always  frank,  to  put  it  delicately." 

"  Your  father  always  spoke  in  praise  of  Silas  Whipple, 
my  dear.  I  have  heard  him  call  him  one  of  the  ablest 
lawyers  in  the  country.  He  won  a  remarkable  case 
for  Appleton  here,  and  he  once  said  that  the  Judge  would 
have  sat  on  the  Supreme  Bench  if  he  had  not  been  pur 
sued  with  such  relentlessness  by  rascally  politicians." 

"  The  Judge  indulges  in  a  little  relentlessness  now  and 
then,  himself.  He  is  not  precisely  what  might  be  termed 
a  mild  man,  if  what  we  hear  is  correct." 

Mrs.  Brice  started. 

"  What  have  you  heard  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Well,  there  was  a  gentleman  on  the  steamboat  who 
said  that  it  took  more  courage  to  enter  the  Judge's  private 
office  than  to  fight  a  Border  Ruffian.  And  another,  a 
young  lawyer,  who  declared  that  he  would  rather  face  a 
wild  cat  than  ask  Whipple  a  question  on  the  new 
code.  And  yet  he  said  that  the  Judge  knew  more  law 
than  any  man  in  the  West.  And  lastly,  there  is  a  polished 
gentleman  named  Hopper  here  from  Massachusetts  who 
enlightened  me  a  little  more." 

Stephen  paused  and  bit  his  tongue.  He  saw  that  she 
was  distressed  by  these  things.  Heaven  knows  that  she 
had  borne  enough  trouble  in  the  last  few  months. 

"  Come,  mother,"  he  said  gently,  "  you  should  know 
how  to  take  my  jokes  by  this  time.  I  didn't  mean  it. 
I  am  sure  the  Judge  is  a  good  man,  —  one  of  those  aggres 
sive  good  men  who  make  enemies.  I  have  but  a  single 
piece  of  guilt  to  accuse  him  of." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  "  asked  the  widow. 

"  The  cunning  forethought  which  he  is  showing  in 
wishing  to  have  it  said  that  a  certain  Senator  and  Judge 
Brice  was  trained  in  his  office." 

"  Stephen  —  you  goose  !  "  she  said. 

Her  eye  wandered  around  the  room,  —  Widow  Crane's 
best  bedroom.  It  was  dimly  lighted  by  an  extremely 


32  THE   CRISIS 

ugly  lamp.  The  hideous  stuffy  bed  curtains  and  the 
more  hideous  imitation  marble  mantel  were  the  two 
objects  that  held  her  glance.  There  was  no  change  in 
her  calm  demeanor.  But  Stephen,  who  knew  his  mother, 
felt  that  her  little  elation  over  her  arrival  had  ebbed. 
Neither  would  confess  dejection  to  the  other. 

"  I,  —  even  I,  —  "  said  Stephen,  tapping  his  chest,  "  have 
at  least  made  the  acquaintance  of  one  prominent  citizen, 
Mr.  Eliphalet  D.  Hopper.  According  to  Mr.  Dickens, 
he  is  a  true  American  gentleman,  for  he  chews  tobacco. 
He  has  been  in  St.  Louis  five  years,  is  now  assistant 
manager  of  the  largest  dry  goods  house,  and  still  lives  in 
one  of  Miss  Crane's  four-dollar  rooms.  I  think  we  may 
safely  say  that  he  will  be  a  millionaire  before  I  am  a 
senator." 

He  paused. 

"  And  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

He  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  walked  over  to 
the  window. 

"  I  think  that  it  would  be  better  if  I  did  the  same  thing." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  my  son  —  " 

"If  I  went  to  work, — started  sweeping  out  a  store,  I 
mean.  See  here,  mother,  you've  sacrificed  enough  for 
me  already.  After  paying  father's  debts,  we've  come 
out  here  with  only  a  few  thousand  dollars,  and  the  nine 
hundred  I  saved  out  of  this  year's  Law  School  allowance. 
What  shall  we  do  when  that  is  gone  ?  The  honorable 
legal  profession,  as  my  friend  reminded  me  to-night,  is  not 
the  swiftest  road  to  millions." 

With  a  mother's  discernment  she  guessed  the  agitation 
he  was  striving  to  hide  ;  she  knew  that  he  had  been  gath 
ering  courage  for  this  moment  for  months.  And  she 
knew  that  he  was  renouncing  thus  lightly,  for  her  sake, 
an  ambition  he  had  had  from  his  school  days. 

The  widow  passed  her  hand  over  her  brow.  It  was  a 
space  before  she  answered  him. 

"  My  son,"  she  said,  "  let  us  never  speak  of  this  again. 
It  was  your  father's  dearest  wish  that  you  should  become 


BLACK   CATTLE  33 

a  lawyer,  and  —  and  his  wishes  are  sacred.     God  will  take 
care  of  us." 

She  rose  and  kissed  him  good-night. 

"  Remember,  my  dear,  when  you  go  to  Judge  Whipple 
in  the  morning,  remember  his  kindness,  and  —  " 
.  "And  keep  my  temper.     I  shall,  mother." 

A  while  later  he  stole  gently  back  into  her  room  again. 
She  was  on  her  knees  by  the  walnut  bedstead. 

At  nine  the  next  morning  Stephen  left  Miss  Crane's, 
girded  for  the  struggle  with  the  redoubtable  Silas  Whipple. 
He  was  not  afraid,  but  a  poor  young  man  as  an  applicant 
to  a  notorious  dragon  is  not  likely  to  be  handled  with 
velvet,  even  though  the  animal  had  been  a  friend  of 
his  father.  Dragons  as  a  rule  have  had  a  hard  time  in 
their  youths,  and  believe  in  others'  having  a  hard  time. 

To  a  young  man,  who  as  his  father's  heir  in  Boston  had 
been  the  subject  of  marked  consideration  by  his  elders,  the 
situation  was  keenly  distasteful.  But  it  had  to  be  gone 
through.  So  presently,  after  inquiry,  he  came  to  the  open 
square  where  the  new  Court  House  stood,  the  dome  of 
which  was  indicated  by  a  mass  of  staging,  and  one  wing 
still  to  be  completed.  Across  from  the  building,  on  Mar 
ket  Street,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  block,  what  had  once 
been  a  golden  hand  pointed  up  a  narrow  dusty  stairway. 
Here  was  a  sign,  "Law  office  of  Silas  Whipple." 

Stephen  climbed  the  stairs,  and  arrived  at  a  ground- 
glass  door,  on  which  the  sign  was  repeated.  Behind  that 
door  was  the  future  :  so  he  opened  it  fearfully,  with  an 
impulse  to  throw  his  arm  above  his  head.  But  he  was 
struck  dumb  on  beholding,  instead  of  a  dragon,  a  good- 
natured  young  man  who  smiled  a  broad  welcome.  The 
reaction  was  as  great  as  though  one  entered  a  dragon's 
den,  armed  to  the  teeth,  to  find  a  St.  Bernard  doing  the 
honors. 

Stephen's  heart  went  out  to  this  young  man,  —  after 
that  organ  had  jumped  back  into  its  place.  This  keeper 
of  the  dragon  looked  the  part.  Even  the  long  black  coat 
which  custom  then  decreed  could  not  hide  the  bone  and 


34  THE   CRISIS 

sinew  under  it.  The  young  man  had  a  broad  forehead, 
placid  Dresden-blue  eyes,  flaxen  hair,  and  the  German 
coloring.  Across  one  of  his  high  cheek-bones  was  a  great 
jagged  scar  which  seemed  to  add  distinction  to  his  appear 
ance.  That  caught  Stephen's  eye,  and  held  it.  He  won 
dered  whether  it  were  the  result  of  an  .encounter  with  the 
Judge. 

"  You  wish  to  see  Mr.  Whipple  ? "  he  asked,  in  the 
accents  of  an  educated  German. 

"  Yes,"  said  Stephen,  "  if  he  isn't  busy." 

"  He  is  out,"  said  the  other,  with  just  a  suspicion  of  a 
d  in  the  word.  "  You  know  he  is  much  occupied  now, 
fighting  election  frauds.  You  read  the  papers  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  stranger  here,"  said  Stephen. 

"  Ach !  "  exclaimed  the  German,  "now  I  know  you,  Mr. 
Brice.  The  young  one  from  Boston  the  Judge  spoke  of. 
But  you  did  not  tell  him  of  your  arrival." 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  bother  him,"  Stephen  replied, 
smiling. 

"  My  name  is  Richter  —  Carl  Richter,  sir." 

The  pressure  of  Mr.  Richter's  big  hands  warmed  Stephen 
as  nothing  else  had  since  he  had  come  West.  He  was 
moved  to  return  it  with  a  little  more  fervor  than  he  usu 
ally  showed.  And  he  felt,  whatever  the  Judge  might  be, 
that  he  had  a  powerful  friend  near  at  hand — Mr.  Rich 
ter's  welcome  came  near  being  an  embrace. 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Brice,"  he  said;  "mild  weather  for 
November,  eh?  The  Judge  will  be  here  in  an  hour." 

Stephen  looked  around  him  :  at  the  dusty  books  on  the 
shelves,  and  the  still  dustier  books  heaped  on  Mr.  Richter's 
big  table  ;  at  the  cuspidors  ;  at  the  engravings  of  Wash 
ington  and  Webster  ;  at  the  window  in  the  jog  which 
looked  out  on  the  court-house  square ;  and  finally  at 
another  ground-glass  door  on  which  was  printed :  — 

SILAS    WHIPPLE 
PRIVATE 

This,  then,  was  the  den,  —  the  arena  in  which  was  to 


BLACK   CATTLE  35 

take  place  a  memorable  interview.  But  the  thought  of 
waiting  an  hour  for  the  dragon  to  appear  was  disquieting. 
Stephen  remembered  that  he  had  something  over  nine 
hundred  dollars  in  his  pocket  (which  he  had  saved  out 
of  his  last  year's  allowance  at  the  Law  School).  So  he 
asked  Mr.  Richter,  who  was  dusting  off  a  chair,  to  direct 
him  to  the  nearest  bank. 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  he  ;  "  Mr.  Brinsmade's  bank  on 
Chestnut  Street."  He  took  Stephen  to  the  window  and 
pointed  across  the  square.  "  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  go  with 
you,"  he  added,  "  but  the  Judge's  negro,  Shadrach,  is  out, 
and  I  must  stay  in  the  office.  I  will  give  you  a  note  to 
Mr.  Brinsmade." 

"His  negro!"  exclaimed  Stephen.  "Why,  I  thought 
that  Mr.  Whipple  was  an  Abolitionist." 

Mr.  Richter  laughed. 

"  The  man  is  free,"  said  he.  "  The  Judge  pays  him 
wages." 

Stephen  thanked  his  new  friend  for  the  note  to  the 
bank  president,  and  went  slowly  down  the  stairs.  To  be 
keyed  up  to  a  battle-pitch,  and  then  to  have  the  battle 
deferred,  is  a  trial  of  flesh  and  spirit. 

As  he  reached  the  pavement,  he  saw  people  gathering 
in  front  of  the  wide  entrance  of  the  Court  House  opposite, 
and  perched  on  the  copings.  He  hesitated,  curious.  Then 
he  walked  slowly  toward  the  place,  and  buttoning  his 
coat,  pushed  through  the  loafers  and  passers-by  dallying 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd.  There,  in  the  bright 
November  sunlight,  a  sight  met  his  eyes  which  turned 
him  sick  and  dizzy. 

Against  the  walls  and  pillars  of  the  building,  already 
grimy  with  soot,  crouched  a  score  of  miserable  human 
beings  waiting  to  be  sold  at  auction.  Mr.  Lynch's  slave 
pen  had  been  disgorged  that  morning.  Old  and  young, 
husband  and  wife,  —  the  moment  was  come  for  all  and 
each.  How  hard  the  stones !  and  what  more  pitiless  than 
the  gaze  of  their  fellow-creatures  in  the  crowd  below ! 
O  friends,  we  who  live  in  peace  and  plenty  amongst 
our  families,  how  little  do  we  realize  the  terror  and  the 


36  THE   CRISIS 

misery  and  the  dumb  heart-aches  of  those  days  !  Stephen 
thought  with  agony  of  seeing  his  own  mother  sold  before 
his  eyes,  and  the  building  in  front  of  him  was  lifted 
from  its  foundation  and  rocked  even  as  shall  the  temples 
on  the  judgment  day. 

The  oily  auctioneer  was  inviting  the  people  to  pinch 
the  wares.  Men  came  forward  to  feel  the  creatures  and 
look  into  their  mouths,  and  one  brute,  unshaven  and 
with  filthy  linen,  snatched  a  child  from  its  mother's  lap. 
Stephen  shuddered  with  the  sharpest  pain  he  had  ever- 
known.  An  ocean-wide  tempest  arose  in  his  breast,  —  a 
Samson's  strength  to  break  the  pillars  of  the  temple, 
to  slay  these  men  with  his  bare  hands.  Seven  genera 
tions  of  stern  life  and  thought  had  their  focus  here  in 
him, — from  Oliver  Cromwell  to  John  Brown. 

Stephen  was  far  from  prepared  for  the  storm  that  raged 
within  him.  He  had  not  been  brought  up  an  Abolitionist, 
—  far  from  it.  Nor  had  his  father's  friends  —  who  were 
deemed  at  that  time  the  best  people  in  Boston  —  been 
Abolitionists.  Only  three  years  before,  when  Boston  had 
been  aflame  over  the  delivery  of  the  fugitive  Anthony 
Burns,  Stephen  had  gone  out  of  curiosity  to  the  mass 
meeting  at  Faneuil  Hall.  How  well  he  remembered  his 
father's  indignation  when  he  confessed  it,  and  in  his 
anger  Mr.  Brice  had  called  Phillips  and  Parker  "  agita 
tors."  But  his  father,  nor  his  father's  friends  in  Boston, 
had  never  been  brought  face  to  face  with  this  hideous 
traffic. 

Hark  !  Was  that  the  sing-song  voice  of  the  auctioneer  ? 
He  was  selling  the  cattle.  High  and  low,  caressing  and 
menacing,  he  teased  and  exhorted  them  to  buy.  They 
were  bidding,  yes,  for  the  possession  of  souls,  bidding  in 
the  currency  of  the  Great  Republic.  And  between  the 
eager  shouts  came  a  moan  of  sheer  despair.  What  was 
the  attendant  doing  now  ?  He  was  tearing  two  of  them 
from  a  last  embrace. 

Three  —  four  were  sold  while  Stephen  was  in  a  dream. 

Then  came  a  lull,  a  hitch,  and  the  crowd  began  to 
chatter  gayly.  But  the  misery  in  front  of  him  held 


BLACK    CATTLE  •  37 

Stephen  in  a  spell.  Figures  stood  out  from  the  group. 
A  white-haired  patriarch,  with  eyes  raised  to  the  sky  ;  a 
flat-breasted  woman  whose  child  was  gone,  whose  weakness 
made  her  valueless.  Then  two  girls  were  pushed  forth,  one 
a  quadroon  of  great  beauty,  to  be  fingered.  Stephen 
turned  his  face  away,  —  to  behold  Mr.  Eliphalet  Hopper 
looking  calmly  on. 

"  Wai,  Mr.  Brice,  this  is  an  interesting  show  now,  ain't 
it  ?  Something  we  don't  have.  I  generally  stop  here  to 
take  a  look  when  I'm  passing."  And  he  spat  tobacco  juice 
on  the  coping. 

Stephen  came  to  his  senses. 

"  And  you  are  from  New  England  ?  "  he  said. 

Mr.  Hopper  laughed. 

-  "Tarnation  !  "  said  he,  "you  get  used  to  it.  When  I 
come  here,  I  was  a  sort  of  an  Abolitionist.  But  after 
you've  lived  here  awhile  you  get  to  know  that  niggers 
ain't  fit  for  freedom." 

Silence  from  Stephen. 

"  Likely  gal,  that  beauty,"  Eliphalet  continued  unre- 
pressed.  "There's  a  well-known  New  Orleans  dealer 
named  Jenkins  after  her.  I  callate  she'll  go  down  river." 

"  I  reckon  you're  right,  Mistah,"  a  man  with  a  matted 
beard  chimed  in,  and  added  with  a  wink :  "  she'll  find  it 
pleasant  enough  —  fer  a  while.  Some  of  those  other  nig 
gers  will  go  too,  and  they'd  ruther  go  to  hell.  They  do  treat 
'em  nefarious  daown  thah  on  the  wholesale  plantations. 
Household  niggers  !  there  ain't  none  better  off  than  them. 
But  seven  years  in  a  cotton  swamp,  —  seven  years  it  takes; 
that's  all,  Mistah." 

Stephen  moved  away.  He  felt  that  to  stay  near  the 
man  was  to  be  tempted  to  murder.  He  moved  away,  and 
just  then  the  auctioneer  yelled,  "  Attention  !  " 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  cried,  "  I  have  heah  two  sisters,  the 
prope'ty  of  the  late  Mistah  Robe't  Benbow,  of  St.  Louis, 
as  fine  a  pair  of  wenches  as  was  ever  offe'd  to  the  public 
from  these  heah  steps  —  " 

"  Speak  for  the  handsome  gal,"  cried  a  wag. 

"  Sell  off  the  cart  hoss  fust,"  said  another. 


38  THE   CRISIS 

The  auctioneer  turned  to  the  darker  sister. 

"  Sal  ain't  much  on  looks,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  but 
she's  the  best  nigger  for  work  Mistah  Benbow  had."  He 
seized  her  arm  and  squeezed  it,  while  the  girl  flinched  and 
drew  back.  "  She's  solid,  gentlemen,  and  sound  as  a 
dollar,  and  she  kin  sew  and  cook.  Twenty-two  years  old. 
What  am  I  bid  ?  " 

Much  to  the  auctioneer's  disgust,  Sal  was  bought  in  for 
four  hundred  dollars,  the  interest  in  the  beautiful  sister 
having  made  the  crowd  impatient.  Stephen,  sick  at  heart, 
turned  to  leave.  Halfway  to  the  corner  he  met  a  little 
elderly  man  who  was  the  color  of  a  dried  gourd.  And 
just  as  Stephen  passed  him,  this  man  was  overtaken  by 
an  old  negress,  with  tears  streaming  down  her  face,  who 
seized  the  threadbare  hem  of  his  coat.  Stephen  paused 
involuntarily. 

"  Well,  Nancy,"  said  the  little  man,  "  we  had  marvellous 
luck.  I  was  able  to  buy  your  daughter  for  you  with  less 
than  the  amount  of  your  savings." 

"  T'ank  you,  Mistah  Cantah,"  wailed  the  poor  woman, 
'  t'ank  you,  suh.  Praised  be  de  name  ob  de  Lawd.  He 
gib  me  Sal  again.  Oh,  Mistah  Cantah  "  (the  agony  in 
that  cry),  "  is  you  gwineter  stan'  heah  an'  see  her  sister 
Hester  sol'  to  —  to  —  oh,  ma  little  chile  !  De  little 
chile  dat  I  nussed,  dat  I  raised  up  in  God's  'ligion.  Mis 
tah  Cantah,  save  her,  suh,  f'om  dat  wicked  life  o'  sin.  De 
Lawd  Jesus'll  rewa'd  you,  suh.  Dis  ole  woman'll  wuk  fo' 
you  twell  de  flesh  drops  off'n  her  fingers,  suh." 

And  had  he  not  held  her,  she  would  have  gone  down 
on  her  knees  on  the  stone  flagging  before  him.  Her  suffer 
ing  was  stamped  on  the  little  man's  face,  —  and  it  seemed 
to  Stephen  that  this  was  but  one  trial  more  which  adversity 
had  brought  to  Mr.  Canter. 

"  Nancy,"  he  answered  (how  often,  and  to  how  many, 
must  he  have  had  to  say  the  same  thing),  "  I  haven't  the 
money,  Nancy.  Would  to  God  that  I  had,  Nancy  !  " 

She  had  sunk  down  on  the  bricks.  But  she  had  not 
fainted.  It  was  not  so  merciful  as  that.  It  was  Stephen 
who  lifted  her,  and  helped  her  to  the  coping,  where  she 


BLACK   CATTLE  39 

sat  with  her  head  bowed  between  her  knees,  the  scarlet 
bandanna  awry. 

Stephen  Brice  was  not  of  a  descent  to  do  things  upon 
impulse.  But  the  tale  was  told  in  after  days  that  one 
of  his  first  actions  in  St.  Louis  was  of  this  nature.  The 
waters  stored  for  ages  in  the  four  great  lakes,  given  the 
opportunity,  rush  over  Niagara  Falls  into  Ontario. 

"  Take  the  woman  away,"  said  Stephen,  in  a  low  voice, 
"and  I  will  buy  the  girl,  —  if  I  can." 

The  little  man  looked  up,  dazed. 

"  Give  me  your  card,  —  your  address.  I  will  buy  the 
girl,  if  I  can,  and  set  her  free." 

He  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  drew  out  a  dirty  piece  of 
pasteboard.  It  read  :  "  R.  Canter,  Second  Hand  Furni 
ture,  20  Second  Street."  And  still  he  stared  at  Stephen, 
as  one  who  gazes  upon  a  mystery.  A  few  curious  pedes 
trians  had  stopped  in  front  of  them. 

"  Get  her  away,  if  you  can,  for  God's  sake,"  said  Stephen 
again.  And  he  strode  off  toward  the  people  at  the 
auction.  He  was  trembling.  In  his  eagerness  to  reach 
a  place  of  vantage  before  the  girl  was  sold,  he  pushed 
roughly  into  the  crowd. 

But  suddenly  he  was  brought  up  short  by  the  blocky 
body  of  Mr.  Hopper,  who  grunted  with  the  force  of  the 
impact. 

"Gosh,"  said  that  gentleman,  "but  you  are  inters'ted. 
They  ain't  begun  to  sell  her  yet — he's  waitin'  for  some 
body.  Callatin'  to  buy  her?"  asked  Mr.  Hopper,  with 
genial  humor. 

Stephen  took  a  deep  breath.  If  he  knocked  Mr.  Hopper 
down,  he  certainly  couldr  not  buy  her.  And  it  was  a  relief 
to  know  that  the  sale  had  not  begun. 

As  for  Eliphalet,  he  was  beginning  to  like  young  Brice. 
lie  approved  of  any  man  from  Boston  who  was  not 
too  squeamish  to  take  pleasure  in  a  little  affair  of  this 
kind. 

As  for  Stephen,  Mr.  Hopper  brought  him  back  to  earth. 
He  ceased  trembling,  and  began  to  think. 

"Tarnation!  "  said  Eliphalet.    "There's  my  boss,  Colonel 


40  THE   CRISIS 

Carvel,  across  the  street.  Guess  I'd  better  move  on.  But 
what  d'ye  think  of  him  for  a  real  Southern  gentleman  ? 
The  young  dandy  is  his  nephew,  Clarence  Colfax.  He 
callates  to  own  this  town."  Eliphalet  was  speaking 
leisurely,  as  usual,  while  preparing  to  move.  "  That's 
Virginia  Carvel,  in  red.  Any  gals  down  Boston-way  to 
beat  her  ?  Guess  you  won't  find  many  as  proud." 

He  departed.  And  Stephen  glanced  absently  at  the 
group.  They  were  picking  their  way  over  the  muddy 
crossing  toward  him.  Was  it  possible  that  these  people 
were  coming  to  a  slave  auction  ?  Surely  not.  And  yet 
here  they  were  on  the  pavement  at  his  very  side. 

She  wore  a  long  Talma  of  crimson  cashmere,  and  her 
face  was  in  that  most  seductive  of  frames,  a  scoop  bonnet 
of  dark  green  velvet.  For  a  fleeting  second  her  eyes  met 
his,  and  then  her  lashes  fell.  But  he  was  aware,  when  he 
had  turned  away,  that  she  was  looking  at  him  again.  He 
grew  uneasy.  He  wondered  whether  his  appearance  be 
trayed  his  purpose,  or  made  a  question  of  his  sanity. 

Sanity  !  Yes,  probably  he  was  insane  from  her  point  of 
view.  A  sudden  anger  shook  him  that  she  should  be 
there  calmly  watching  such  a  scene. 

Just  then  there  was  a  hush  among  the  crowd.  The 
beautiful  slave-girl  was  seized  roughly  by  the  man  in 
charge  and  thrust  forward,  half  fainting,  into  view. 
Stephen  winced.  But  unconsciously  he  turned,  to  see 
the  effect  upon  Virginia  Carvel. 

Thank  God  !     There  were  tears  upon  her  lashes. 

Here  was  the  rasp  of  the  auctioneer's  voice  :  — 

"  Gentlemen,  I  reckon  there  ain't  never  been  offered  to 
bidders  such  an  opportunity  as  this  heah.  Look  at  her 
well,  gentlemen.  I  ask  you,  ain't  she  a  splendid  crea 
ture?" 

Colonel  Carvel,  in  annoyance,  started  to  move  on. 
u  Come  Jinny,"  he  said,  "I  had  no  business  to  bring  you 
over." 

But  Virginia  caught  his  arm.  "  Pa,"  she  cried,  "  it's 
Mr.  Benbow's  Hester.  Don't  go,  dear.  Buy  her  for  me. 
You  know  that  I  always  wanted  her.  Please !  " 


BLACK   CATTLE  41 

The  Colonel  halted,  irresolute,  and  pulled  his  goatee. 
Young  Colfax  stepped  in  between  them. 

"  I'll  buy  her  for  you,  Jinny.  Mother  promised  you  a 
present,  you  know,  and  you  shall  have  her." 

Virginia  had  calmed. 

"  Do  buy  her,  one  of  you,"  was  all  she  said. 

u  You  may  do  the  bidding,  Clarence,"  said  the  Colonel, 
"  and  we'll  settle  the  ownership  afterward."  Taking  Vir 
ginia's  arm,  he  escorted  her  across  the  street. 

Stephen  was  left  in  a  quandary.  Here  was  a  home  for 
the  girl,  and  a  good  one.  Why  should  he  spend  the  money 
which  meant  so  much  to  him  ?  He  saw  the  man  Jenkins 
elbowing  to  the  front.  And  yet  —  suppose  Mr.  Colfax  did 
not  get  her?  He  had  promised  to  buy  her  if  he  could, 
and  to  set  her  free. 

Stephen  had  made  up  his  mind.  He  shouldered  his  way 
after  Jenkins. 


CHAPTER  Y 

THE   FIRST   SPAKK   PASSES 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  shouted  the  auctioneer,  when  he 
had  finished  his  oration  upon  the  girl's  attractions,  "  what 
am  I  bid  ?  Eight  hundred  ?  " 

Stephen  caught  his  breath.  There  was  a  long  pause. 
No  one  cared  to  start  the  bidding. 

"  Come,  gentlemen,  come  !  There's  my  friend  Alf  Jen 
nings.  He  knows  what  she's  worth  to  a  nickel.  What'll 
you  give,  Alf  ?  Is  it  eight  hundred  ?  " 

Mr.  Jennings  winked  at  the  auctioneer,  and  the  crowd 
joined  in  the  laugh. 

"  Three  hundred  !  "  he  said. 

The  auctioneer  was  mortally  offended.  Then  some  one 
cried  :  — 

"  Three  hundred  and  fifty  !  " 

It  was  young  Colfax.  He  was  recognized  at  once,  by 
name,  evidently  as  a  person  of  importance. 

"  Thank  you,  Mistah  Colfax,  suh,"  said  the  auctioneer, 
with  a  servile  wave  of  the  hand  in  his  direction,  while  the 
crowd  twisted  their  necks  to  see  him.  He  stood  very 
straight,  very  haughty,  as  if  entirely  oblivious  to  his  con 
spicuous  position. 

"  Three  seventy-five  !  " 

"  That's  better,  Mistah  Jennings,"  said  the  auctioneer, 
sarcastically.  He  turned  to  the  girl,  who  might  have 
stood  to  a  sculptor  for  a  figure  of  despair.  Her  hands 
were  folded  in  front  of  her,  her  head  bowed  down.  The 
auctioneer  put  his  hand  under  her  chin  and  raised  it 
roughly.  "  Cheer  up,  my  gal,"  he  said,  "  you  ain't  got 
nothing  to  blubber  about  now." 

Hester's  breast  heaved,  and  from  her  black  eyes  there 

42 


THE   FIRST   SPARK   PASSES  43 

shot  a  magnificent  look  of  defiance.  He  laughed.  That 
was  the  white  blood. 

The  white  blood ! 

Clarence  Colfax  had  his  bid  taken  from  his  lips.  Above 
the  heads  of  the  people  he  had  a  quick  vision  of  a  young 
man  with  a  determined  face,  whose  voice  rang  clear  and 
strong,  — 

"  Four  hundred  ! " 

Even  the  auctioneer,  braced  two  ways,  was  thrown  off 
his  balance  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  this  new  force. 
Stephen  grew  red  over  the  sensation  he  made.  Appar 
ently  the  others  present  had  deemed  competition  with 
such,  as  Jennings  and  young  Colfax  the  grossest  folly. 
He  was  treated  to  much  liberal  staring  before  the  oily 
salesman  arranged  his  wits  to  grapple  with  the  third 
factor. 

"  Four  hundred  from  —  from  —  from  that  gentleman." 
And  the  chubby  index  seemed  the  finger  of  scorn. 

"  Four  hundred  and  fifty  !  "  said  Mr.  Colfax,  defiantly. 

Whereupon  Mr.  Jennings,  the  New  Orleans  dealer, 
lighted  a  very  long  cigar  and  sat  down  on  the  coping. 
The  auctioneer  paid  no  attention  to  this  manoeuvre.  But 
Mr.  Brice  and  Mr.  Colfax,  being  very  young,  fondly 
imagined  that  they  had  the  field  to  themselves,  to  fight 
to  a  finish.  - 

Here  wisdom  suggested  in  a  mild  whisper  to  Stephen 
that  there  was  a  last  chance  to  pull  out.  And  let  Colfax 
have  the  girl  ?  Never.  That  was  pride,  and  most  repre 
hensible.  But  second  he  thought  of  Mr.  Canter  and  old 
Nancy,  and  that  was  not  pride. 

"Four  seventy-five  !  "  he  cried. 

"Thank  you,  suh." 

"  Now  fur  it,  young  uns  !  "  said  the  wag,  and  the  crowd 
howled  with  merriment. 

"  Five  hundred  !  "  snapped  Mr.  Colfax. 

He  was  growing  angry.  But  Stephen  was  from  New 
England,  and  poor,  and  he  thought  of  the  size  of  his 
purse.  A  glance  at  his  adversary  showed  that  his  blood 
was  up.  Money  was  plainly  no  consideration  to  him,  and 


44  THE   CRISIS 

young  Colfax  did  not  seem  to  be  the  kind  who  would  relish 
returning  to  a  young  lady  and  acknowledge  a  defeat. 

Stephen  raised  the  bid  by  ten  dollars.  The  Southerner 
shot  up  fifty.  Again  Stephen  raised  it  ten.  He  was  in 
fall  possession  of  himself  now,  and  proof  against  the 
thinly  veiled  irony  of  the  oily  man's  remarks  in  favor  of 
Mr.  Colfax.  In  an  incredibly  short  time  the  latter's 
impetuosity  had  brought  them  to  eight  hundred  and  ten 
dollars. 

Then  several  things  happened  very  quickly. 

Mr.  Jennings  got  up  from  the  curb  and  said,  "  Eight 
hundred  and  twenty-five,"  with  his  cigar  in  his  mouth. 
Scarcely  had  the  ham  of  excitement  died  when  Stephen, 
glancing  at  Colfax  for  the  next  move,  saw  that  young 
gentleman  seized  from  the  rear  by  his  uncle,  the  tall 
Colonel.  And  across  the  street  was  Miss  Virginia  Carvel, 
tapping  her  foot  on  the  pavement. 

"  What  are  you  about,  sir  ?  "  the  Colonel  cried.  "  The 
wench  isn't  worth  it." 

Mr.  Colfax  shook  himself  free. 

"  I've  got  to  buy  her  now,  sir,"  he  cried. 

"L  reckon  not,"  said  the  Colonel.  "You  come  along 
with  me." 

Naturally  Mr.  Colfax  was  very  angry.  He  struggled, 
but  he  went.  And  so,  protesting,  he  passed  Stephen,  at 
whom  he  did  not  deign  to  glance.  The  humiliation  of  it 
must  have  been  great  for  Mr.  Colfax.  "  Jinny  wants  her, 
sir,"  he  said,  "and  I  have  a  right  to  buy  her." 

"Jinny  wants  everything,"  was  the  Colonel's  reply. 
And  in  a  single  look  of  curiosity  and  amusement  his 
own  gray  eyes  met  Stephen's.  They  seemed  to  regret 
that  this  young  man,  too,  had  not  a  guardian.  Then 
uncle  and  nephew  recrossed  the  street,  and  as  they 
walked  off  the  Colonel  was  seen  to  laugh.  Virginia  had 
her  chin  in  the  air,  and  Clarence's  was  in  his  collar. 

The  crowd,  of  course,  indulged  in  roars  of  laughter,  and 
even  Stephen  could  not  repress  a  smile, — a  smile  not  with 
out  bitterness.  Then  he  wheeled  to  face  Mr.  Jenkins.  Out 
of  respect  for  the  personages  involved,  the  auctioneer  had 


THE   FIRST   SPARK   PASSES  45 

been  considerately  silent  during  the  event.      It  was  Mr. 
Brice  who  was  now  the  centre  of  observation. 

"  Come,  gentlemen,  come  !  this  here's  a  joke  —  eight 
twenty- five.  She's  worth  two  thousand.  I've  been  in 
the  business  twenty  yea's,  and  I  neve'  seen  her  equal. 
Give  me  a  bid,  Mr.  —  Mr. — you  have  the  advantage  of 
me,  suh." 

"  Eight  hundred  and  thirty-live  !  "  said  Stephen. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Jenkins,  now,  suh !  we've  got  twenty  mo' 
to  sell." 

"  Eight  fifty  !  "  said  Mr.  Jenkins. 

"  Eight  sixty  !  "  said  Stephen,  and  they  cheered  him. 

Mr.  Jenkins  took  his  cigar  out  of  his  teeth,  and  stared. 

"  Eight  seventy-five  !  "  said  he. 

"  Eight  eighty-five  !  "  said  Stephen. 

There  was  a  breathless  pause. 

"  Nine  hundred  !  "  said  the  trader. 

"  Nine  hundred  and  ten  !  "  cried  Stephen. 

At  that  Mr.  Jenkins  whipped  his  hat  from  off  his  head, 
and  made  Stephen  a  derisive  bow. 

"  She's  youahs,  suh,"  he  said.  "  These  here  are  panic 
times.  I've  struck  my  limit.  I  can  do  bettah  in  Louis 
ville  f o'  less.  Congratulate  you,  suh  —  reckon  you  want 
her  wuss'n  I  do." 

At  which  sally  Stephen  grew  scarlet,  and  the  crowd 
howled  with  joy. 

"  What !  "  yelled  the  auctioneer.  "  Why,  gentlemen, 
this  heah's  a  joke.  Nine  hundred  and  ten  dollars,  gents, 
nine  hundred  and  ten.  We've  just  begun,  gents.  Come, 
Mr.  Jenkins,  that's  giving  her  away." 

The  trader  shook  his  head,  and  puffed  at  his  cigar. 

"  Well,"  cried  the  oily  man,  "  this  is  a  slaughter.     Going 
at  nine  hundred  an' ten  —  nine  ten  —  going  —  going  — 
down  came  the  hammer  —  "  gone  at  nine  hundred  and  ten 
to  Mr.  — Mr.  — you  have  the  advantage  of  me,  suh." 

An  attendant  had  seized  the  girl,  who  was  on  the  verge 
of  fainting,  and  was  dragging  her  back.  Stephen  did 
not  heed  the  auctioneer,  but  thrust  forward  regardless  of 
stares o 


46  THE   CRISIS 

"  Handle  her  gently,  you  blackguard  !  "  he  cried. 

The  man  took  his  hands  off. 

"  Suttinly,  sah,"  he  said. 

Hester  lifted  her  eyes,  and  they  were  filled  with  such 
gratitude  and  trust  that  suddenly  he  was  overcome  with 
embarrassment. 

44  Can  you  walk  ?  "  he  demanded,  somewhat  harshly. 

"  Yes,  massaV' 
?  "  Then  get  up,"  he  said,  "  and  follow  me." 

She  rose  obediently.  Then  a  fat  man  came  out  of  the 
Court  House,  with  a  quill  in  his  hand,  and  a  merry' twin 
kle  in  his  eye  that  Stephen  resented.  \ 

44  This  way,  please,  sah,"  and  he  led  him  to  a  desk,  from 
the  drawer  of  which  he  drew  forth  a  blank  deed. 

"  Name,  please  !  " 

"Stephen  Atterbury  Brice." 

"  Residence,  Mr.  Brice  !  " 

Stephen  gave  the  number.  But  instead  of  writing  it 
down,  the  man  merely  stared  at  him,  while  the  fat  creases 
in  his  face  deepened  and  deepened.  Finally  he  put  down 
his  quill,  and  indulged  in  a  gale  of  laughter,  hugely  to 
Mr.  Brice's  discomfiture. 

44  Shucks  !  "  said  the  fat  man,  as  soon  as  he  could. 
44  What  are  you  givin'  us  ?  That  the's  a  Yankee 
boa'din'-house." 

44  And  I  suppose  that  that  is  part  of  your  business,  too," 
said  Stephen,  acidly. 

The  fat  man  looked  at  him,  pressed  his  lips,  wrote  down 
the  number,  shaken  all  the  while  with  a  disturbance  which 
promised  to  lead  to  another  explosion.  Finally,  after  a 
deal  of  pantomime,  and  whispering  and  laughter  with  the 
notary  behind  the  wire  screen,  the  deed  was  made  out, 
signed,  attested,  and  delivered.  Stephen  counted  out  the 
money  grimly,  in  gold  and  Boston  drafts. 

Out  in  the  sunlight  on  Chestnut  Street,  with  the  girl 
by  his  side,  it  all  seemed  a  nightmare.  The  son  of  Apple- 
ton  Brice  of  Boston  the  owner  of  a  beautiful  quadroon 
girl !  And  he  had  bought  her  with  his  last  cent. 

Miss  Crane  herself  opened  the  door  in  answer  to  his 


THE   FIRST   SPARK   PASSES  47 

ring.  Her  keen  eyes  instantly  darted  over  his  shoulder, 
and  dilated.  But  Stephen,  summoning  all  his  courage, 
pushed  past  her  to  the  stairs,  and  beckoned  Hester  to 
follow. 

"  I  have  brought  this  —  this  person  to  see  my  mother," 
he  said. 

The  spinster  bowed  from  the  back  of  her  neck.  She 
stood  transfixed  on  a  great  rose  in  the  hall  carpet  until 
she  heard  Mrs.  Brice's  door  open  and  slam,  and  then  she 
strode  up  the  stairs  and  into  the  apartment  of  Mrs.  Abner 
Reed.  As  she  passed  the  first  landing,  the  quadroon  girl 
was  waiting  in  the  hall. 


CHAPTER   VI 

SILAS   WHIPPLE      ' 

THE  trouble  with  many  narratives  is  that  they  tell  too 
much.  Stephen's  interview  with  his  mother  was  a  quiet 
affair,  and  not  historic.  Miss  Crane's  boarding-house  is 
not  an  interesting  place,  and  the  tempest  in  that  teapot  is 
better  imagined  than  described.  Out  of  consideration  for 
Mr.  Stephen  Brice,  we  shall  skip  likewise  a  most  affecting 
scene  at  Mr.  Canter's  second-hand  furniture  store. 

That  afternoon  Stephen  came  again  to  the  dirty  flight 
of  steps  which  led  to  Judge  Whipple's  office.  He  paused 
a  moment  to  gather  courage,  and  then,  gripping  the  rail, 
he  ascended.  The  ascent  required  courage  now,  certainly. 
He  halted  again  before  the  door  at  the  top.  But  even  as 
he  stood  there  came  to  him,  in  low,  rich  tones,  the  notes  of 
a  German  song.  He  entered.  And  Mr.  Richter  rose  in 
shirt-sleeves  from  his  desk  to  greet  him,  all  smiling. 

"•Ach,  my  friend!"  said  he,  "but  you  are  late.  The 
Judge  has  been  awaiting  you." 

"  Has  he  ?  "  inquired  Stephen,  with  ill-concealed  anx 
iety. 

The  big  young  German  patted  him  on  the  shoulder. 
Suddenly  a  voice  roared  from  out  the  open  transom  of  the 
private  office,  like  a  cyclone  rushing  through  a  gap. 

44  Mr.  Richter  !  " 

"  Sir  !  " 

44  Who  is  that  ?  " 

44  Mr.  Brice,  sir." 

44  Then  why  in  thunder  doesn't  he  come  in  ?  " 

Mr.  Richter  opened  the  private  door,  and  in  Stephen 
walked.  The  door  closed  again,  and  there  he  was  in  the 
dragon's  den,  face  to  face  with  the  dragon,  who  was  star- 

48 


SILAS   WHIFFLE  49 

ing  him  through  and  through.  The  first  objects  that 
caught  Stephen's  attention  were  the  grizzly  gray  eye 
brows,  which  seemed  as  so  much  brush  to  mark  the  fire 
of  the  deep-set  battery  of  the  eyes.  And  that  battery, 
when  in  action,  must  have  been  truly  terrible. 

The  Judge  was  shaven,  save  for  a  shaggy  fringe  of  gray 
beard  around  his  chin,  and  the  size  of  his  nose  was  appar 
ent  even  in  the  full  face. 

Stephen  felt  that  no  part  of  him  escaped  the  search  of 
Mr.  Whipple's  glance.  But  it  was  no  code  or  course 
of  conduct  that  kept  him  silent.  Nor  was  it  fear  — 
entirely. 

"  So  you  are  Appleton  Brice's  son,"  said  the  Judge,  at 
last.  His  tone  was  not  quite  so  gruff  as  it  might  have 
been. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Stephen. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  the  Judge,  with  a  look  that  scarcely 
expressed  approval.  "  I  guess  you've  been  patted  on  the 
back  too  much  by  your  father's  friends."  He  leaned 
back  in  his  wooden  chair.  "  How  I  used  to  detest  people 
who  patted  boys  on  the  back  and  said  with  a  smirk,  fc  I 
know  your  father.'  I  never  had  a  father  whom  people 
could  say  that  about.  But,  sir,"  cried  the  Judge,  bring 
ing  down  his  fist  on  the  litter  of  papers  that  covered  his 
desk,  "  I  made  up  my  mind  that  one  day  people  should 
know  me.  That  was  my  spur.  And  you'll  start  fair 
here,  Mr.  Brice.  They  won't  know  your  father  here  —  " 

If  Stephen  thought  the  Judge  brutal,  he  did  not  say  so. 
He  glanced  around  the  little  room,  —  at  the  bed  in  the 
corner,  in  which  the  Judge  slept,  and  which  during  the 
day  did  not  escape  the  flood  of  books  and  papers  ;  at 
the  washstand,  with  a  roll  of  legal  cap  beside  the  pitcher. 

"  I  guess  you  think  this  town  pretty  crude  after  Boston, 
Mr.  Brice,"  Mr.  Whipple  continued.  "From  time  im 
memorial  it  has  been  the  pleasant  habit  of  old  commu 
nities  to  be  shocked  at  newer  settlements,  built  by  their 
own  countrymen.  Are  you  shocked,  sir  ?  " 

Stephen  flushed.  Fortunately  the  Judge  did  not  give 
him  time  to  answer. 


50  THE   CRISIS 

"  Why  didn't  your  mother  let  me  know  that  she  was 
coining  ?  " 

u  She  didn't  wish  to  put  you  to  any  trouble,  sir." 

"  Wasn't  I  a  good  friend  of  your  father's  ?  Didn't  I 
ask  you  to  come  here  and  go  into  my  office  ?  " 

"But  there  was  a  chance,  Mr.  Whipple  — 

"  A  chance  of  what  ?  " 

"  That  you  would  not  like  me.  And  there  is  still  a 
chance  of  it,"  added  Stephen,  smiling. 

For  a  second  it  looked  as  if  the  Judge  might  smile,  too. 
He  rubbed  his  nose  with  a  fearful  violence. 

"  Mr.  Richter  tells  me  you  were  looking  for  a  bank," 
said  he,  presently. 

Stephen  quaked. 

"  Yes  sir,  I  was,  but  —  " 

But  Mr.  Whipple  merely  picked  up  the  Counterfeit 
Bank  Note  Detector. 

"  Beware  of  Western  State  Currency  as  you  would  the 
devil,"  said-  he.  kt  That's  one  thing  we  don't  equal  the 
East  in  —  yet.  And  so  you  want  to  become  a  lawyer?" 

"I  intend  to  become  a  lawyer,  sir." 

"  And  so  you  shall,  sir,"  cried  the  Judge,  bringing 
down  his  yellow  fist  upon  the  Bank  Note  Detector.  "  I'll 
make  you  a  lawyer,  sir.  But  my  methods  ain't  Harvard 
methods,  sir." 

"I  am  ready  to  do  anything,  Mr.  Whipple." 

The  Judge  merely  grunted.  He  scratched  among  his 
papers,  and  produced  some  legal  cap  and  a  bunch  of  notes. 

"  Go  out  there,"  he  said,  "  and  take  off  your  coat  and 
copy  this  brief.  Mr.  Richter  will  help  you  to-day.  And 
tell  your  mother  I  shall  do  myself  the  honor  to  call  upon 
her  this  evening." 

Stephen  did  as  he  was  told,  without  a  word.  But  Mr. 
Richter  was  not  in  the  outer  office  when  he  returned  to  it. 
He  tried  to  compose  himself  to  write,  although  the  recol 
lection  of  each  act  of  the  morning  hung  like  a  cloud  over 
the  back  of  his  head.  Therefore  the  first  sheet  of  legal 
cap  was  spoiled  utterly.  But  Stephen  had  a  deep  sense 
of  failure.  He  had  gone  through  the  ground  glass  door 


SILAS   WHIFFLE  51 

with  the  firm  intention  of  making  a  clean  breast  of  the 
ownership  of  Hester.  Now,  as  he  sat  still,  the  trouble 
grew  upon  him.  He  started  a  new  sheet,  and  ruined  that. 
Once  he  got  as  far  as  his  feet,  and  sat  down  again.  But 
at  length  lie  had  quieted  to  the  extent  of  deciphering  ten 
lines  of  Mr.  Whipple's  handwriting  when  the  creak  of  a 
door  shattered  his  nerves  completely. 

He  glanced  up  from  his  work  to  behold  —  none  other 
than  Colonel  Comyn  Carvel. 

Glancing  at  Mr.  Richter's  chair,  and  seeing  it  empty, 
the  Colonel's  eye  roved  about  the  room  until  it  found 
Stephen.  There  it  remained,  and  the  Colonel  remained 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  his  soft  hat  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  one  hand  planted  firmly  on  the  gold  head  of  his 
stick,  and  the  other  tugging  at  his  goatee,  pulling  down 
his  chin  to  the  quizzical  angle. 

"  Whoopee  !  "  he  cried. 

The  effect  of  this  was  to  make  one  perspire  freely. 
Stephen  perspired.  And  as  there  seemed  no  logical 
answer,  he  made  none. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Carvel  turned,  shaking  with  a  laughter 
he  could  not  control,  and  strode  into  the  private  office. 
The  door  slammed  behind  him.  Mr.  Brice's  impulse  was 
flight.  But  he  controlled  himself. 

First  of  all  there  was  an  eloquent  silence.  Then  a 
ripple  of  guffaws.  Then  the  scratch-scratch  of  a  quill 
pen,  and  finally  the  Judge's  voice. 

"  Carvel,  what  the  devil's  the  matter  with  you,  sir  ?  " 

A  squall  of  guffaws  blew  through  the  transom,  and  the 
Colonel  was  heard  slapping  his  knee. 

"  Judge  Whipple,"  said  he,  his  voice  vibrating  from 
suppressed  explosions,  "  I  am  happy  to  see  that  you  have 
overcome  some  of  your  ridiculous  prejudices,  sir." 

"  What  prejudices,  sir  ?  "  the  Judge  was  heard  to  shout. 

"Toward  slavery,  Judge,"  said  Mr.  Carvel,  seeming 
to  recover  his  gravity.  u  You  are  a  broader  man  than  I 
thought,  sir." 

An  unintelligible  gurgle  came  from  the  Judge.  Then 
he  said,  — 


52  THE   CRISIS 

"  Carvel,  haven't  you  and  I  quarrelled  enough  on  that 
subject  ?  " 

"  You  didn't  happen  to  attend  the  nigger  auction  this 
morning  when  you  were  at  the  court  ?  "  asked  the  Colonel, 
blandly. 

"  Colonel,"  said  the  Judge,  "  I've  warned  you  a  hundred 
times  against  the  stuff  you  lay  out  on  your  counter  for 
customers." 

"  You  weren't  at  the  auction,  then,"  continued  the 
Colonel,  undisturbed.  "  You  missed  it,  sir.  You  missed 
seeing  this  young  man  you've  just  employed  buy  the 
prettiest  quadroon  wench  I  ever  set  eyes  on." 

Now  indeed  was  poor  Stephen  on  his  feet.  But  whether 
to  fly  in  at  the  one  entrance  or  out  at  the  other,  he  was 
undecided. 

"  Colonel,"  said  Mr.  Whipple,  "  is  that  true  ?  " 

"  Sir  !  " 

"MR.  BRICE!" 

It  did  not  seem  to  Stephen  as  if  he  was  walking  when 
he  went  toward  the  ground  glass  door.  He  opened  it. 
There  was  Colonel  Carvel  seated  on  the  bed,  his  goatee 
in  his  hand.  And  there  was  the  Judge  leaning  forward 
from  his  hips,  straight  as  a  ramrod.  Fire  was  darting 
from  beneath  his  bushy  eyebrows.  "  Mr.  Brice,"  said  he, 
"there  is  one  question  I  always  ask  of  those  whom  I 
employ.  I  omitted  it  in  your  case  because  I  have  known 
your  father  and  your  grandfather  before  you.  What  is 
your  opinion,  sir,  on  the  subject  of  holding  human  beings 
in  bondage  ?  " 

The  answer  was  immediate,  —  likewise  simple. 

"I  do  not  believe  in  it,  Mr.  Whipple." 

The  Judge  shot  out  of  his  chair  like  a  long  jack-in-the 
box,  and  towered  to  his  full  height. 

"  Mr.  Brice,  did  you,  or  did  you  not,  buy  a  woman  at 
auction  to-day  ?  " 

"I  did,  sir." 

Mr.  Whipple  literally  staggered.  But  Stephen  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  Colonel's  hand  slipping  from  his  chin 
over  his  mouth. 


SILAS   WHIFFLE  53 

"  Good  God,  sir  !  "  cried  the  Judge,  and  he  sat  down 
heavily.  "  You  say  that  you  are  an  Abolitionist  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  do  not  say  that.  But  it  does  not  need  an 
Abolitionist  to  condemn  what  I  saw  this  morning." 

"  Are  you  a  slave-owner,  sir  ?  "  said  Mr.  Whipple. 
.  "  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  get  your  coat  and  hat  and  leave  my  office, 
Mr.  Brice." 

Stephen's  coat  was  on  his  arm.  He  slipped  it  on,  and 
turned  to  go.  He  was,  if  the  truth  were  told,  more 
amused  than  angry.  It  was  Colonel  Carvel's  voice  that 
stopped  him. 

"  Hold  on,  Judge,"  he  drawled,  "  I  reckon  you  haven't 
got  all  the  packing  out  of  that  case." 

Mr.  Whipple  looked  at  him  in  a  sort  of  stupefaction. 
Then  he  glanced  at  Stephen. 

"  Come  back  here,  sir,"  he  cried.  "  I'll  give  you  a 
hearing.  No  man  shall  say  that  I  am  not  just." 

Stephen  looked  gratefully  at  the  Colonel. 

"  I  did  not  expect  one,  sir,"  he  said. 

"  And  you  don't  deserve  one,  sir,"  cried  the  Judge. 

"  I  think  I  do,"  replied  Stephen,  quietly. 

The  Judge  suppressed  something. 

"  What  did  you  do  with  this  person  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  took  her  to  Mrs.  Crane's  boarding-house,"  said 
Stephen. 

It  was  the  Colonel's  turn  to  explode.  The  guffaw 
which  came  from  him  drowned  every  other  sound. 

"  Good  God!"  said  the  Judge,  helplessly.  Again  he 
looked  at  the  Colonel,  and  this  time  something  very  like 
mirth  shivered  his  lean  frame.  "  And  what  do  you 
intend  to  do  with  her  ?  "  he  asked  in  strange  tones. 

"  To  give  her  freedom,  sir,  as  soon  as  I  can  find  some 
body  to  go  on  her  bond." 

Again  silence.  Mr.  Whipple  rubbed  his  nose  with  more 
than  customary  violence,  and  looked  very  hard  at  Mr.  Carvel, 
whose  face  was  inscrutable.  It  was  a  solemn  moment. 

"  Mr.  Brice,"  said  the  Judge,  at  length,  "  take  off  your 
coat,  sir.  I  will  go  her  bond." 


54  THE   CRISIS 

It  was  Stephen's  turn  to  be  taken  aback.  He  stood  re 
garding  the  Judge  curiously,  wondering  what  manner  of 
man  he  was.  He  did  not  know  that  this  question  had 
puzzled  many  before  him. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said. 

His  hand  was  on  the  knob  of  the  door,  when  Mr. 
Whipple  called  him  back  abruptly.  His  voice  had  lost 
some  of  its  gruffness. 

"  What  were  your  father's  ideas  about  slavery,  Mr. 
Brice?" 

The  young  man  thought  a  moment,  as  if -seeking  to  be 
exact. 

"  I  suppose  he  would  have  put  slavery  among  the  neces- 
sarjr  evils,  sir,"  he  said,  at  length.  "  But  he  never  could  bear 
to  have  the  Liberator  mentioned  in  his  presence.  He  was  not 
at  all  in  sympathy  with  Phillips,  or  Parker,  or  Sumner. 
And  such  was  the  general  feeling  among  his  friends." 

"  Then,"  said  the  Judge,  "  contrary  to  popular  opinion 
in  the  West  and  South,  Boston  is  not  all  Abolition." 

Stephen  smiled. 

"  The  conservative  classes  are  not  at  all  Abolitionists, 
sir." 

"The  conservative  classes!"  growled  the  Judge,  "the 
conservative  classes  !  I  am  tired  of  hearing  about  the 
conservative  classes.  Why  not  come  out  with  it,  sir,  and 
say  the  moneyed  classes,  who  would  rather  see  souls  held 
in  bondage  than  risk  their  worldly  goods  in  an  attempt 
to  liberate  them  ?  " 

Stephen  flushed.  It  was  not  at  all  clear  to  him  then 
how  he  was  to  get  along  with  Judge  Whipple.  But  he 
kept  his  temper. 

"  I  am  sure  that  you  do  them  an  injustice,  sir,"  he  said, 
with  more  feeling  than  he  had  yet  shown.  "  I  am  not 
speaking  of  the  rich  alone,  and  I  think  that  if  you  knew 
Boston  you  would  not  say  that  the  conservative  class 
there  is  wholly  composed  of  wealthy  people.  Many  of 
my  father's  friends  were  by  no  means  wealthy.  And  I 
know  that  if  he  had  been  poor  he  would  have  held  the 


SILAS   WHIPPLE  55 

Stephen  did  not  mark  the  quick  look  of  approval  which 
Colonel  Carvel  gave  him.  Judge  Whipple  merely  rubbed 
his  nose. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  said,  "  what  were  his  views,  then  ?  " 

"  My  father  regarded  slaves  as  property,  sir.  And  con 
servative  people  "  (Stephen  stuck  to  the  word)  "  respect 
property  the  world  over.  My  father's  argument  was 
this  :  If  men  are  deprived  by  violence  of  one  kind  oi 
property  which  they  hold  under  the  law,  all  other  kinds 
of  property  will  be  endangered.  The  result  will  be  an 
archy.  Furthermore,  he  recognized  that  the  economic 
conditions  in  the  South  make  slavery  necessary  to  pros 
perity.  And  he  regarded  the  covenant  made  between  the 
states  of  the  two  sections  as  sacred." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  during  which  the  uncompro 
mising  expression  of  the  Judge  did  not  change. 

"  And  do  you,  sir  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  am  not  sure,  sir,  after  what  I  saw  yesterday.  I  —  I 
must  have  time  to  see  more  of  it." 

"  Good  Lord,"  said  Colonel  Carvel,  "  if  the  conservative 
people  of  the  North  act  this  way  when  they  see  a  slave 
sale,  what  will  the  Abolitionists  do  ?  Whipple,"  he  added 
slowly,  but  with  conviction,  "this  means  war." 

Then  the  Colonel  got  to  his  feet,  and  bowed  to  Stephen 
with  ceremony. 

"  Whatever  you  believe,  sir,"  he  said,  "  permit  me  to 
shake  your  hand.  You  are  a  brave  man,  sir.  And 
although  my  own  belief  is  that  the  black  race  is  held  in 
subjection  by  a  divine  decree,  I  can  admire  what  you  have 
done,  Mr.  Brice.  It  was  a  noble  act,  sir,  —  a  right  noble 
act.  And  I  have  more  respect  for  the  people  of  Boston, 
now,  sir,  than  I  ever  had  before,  sir." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  somewhat  dubious 
compliment  (which  he  meant  well),  the  Colonel  departed. 

Judge  Whipple  said  nothing. 


CHAPTER  VII 

CALLEKS 

IF  the  Brices  had  created  an  excitement  upon  their 
arrival,  it  was  as  nothing  to  the  mad  delirium  which 
raged  at  Miss  Crane's  boarding-house  during  the  second 
afternoon  of  their  stay.  Twenty  times  was  Miss  Crane 
on  the  point  of  requesting  Mrs.  Briee  to  leave,  and  twenty 
times,  by  the  advice  of  Mrs.  Abner  Reed,  she  desisted. 
The  culmination  came  when  the  news  leaked  out  that 
Mr.  Stephen  Brice  had  bought  the  young  woman  in 
order  to  give  her  freedom.  Like  those  who  have  done 
noble  acts  since  the  world  began,  Stephen  that  night  was 
both  a  hero  and  a  fool.  The  cream  from  which  heroes  is 
made  is  very  apt  to  turn. 

"  Phew  !  "  cried  Stephen,  when  they  had  reached  their 
room  after  tea,  "  wasn't  that  meal  a  fearful  experience  ? 
Let's  find  a  hovel,  mother,  and  go  and  live  in  it.  We 
can't  stand  it  here  any  longer." 

"Not  if  you  persist  in  your  career  of  reforming  an 
Institution,  my  son,"  answered  the  widow,  smiling. 

"  It  was  beastly  hard  luck,"  said  he,  "  that  I  should 
have  been  shouldered  with  that  experience  the  first  day. 
But  I  have  tried  to  think  it  over  calmly  since,  and  I  can 
see  nothing  else  to  have  done."  He  paused  in  his  pacing 
up  and  down,  a  smile  struggling  Avith  his  serious  look. 
"  It  was  quite  a  hot-headed  business  for  one  of  the  staid 
Brices,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  The  family  has  never  been  called  impetuous,"  replied 
his  mother.  "  It  must  be  the  Western  air." 

He  began  his  pacing  again.  His  mother  had  not  said 
one  word  about  the  money.  Neither  had  he.  Once  more 
he  stopped  before  her. 

56 


CALLERS  57 

"  We  are  at  least  a  year  nearer  the  poor-house,"  he 
said  ;  "  you  haven't  scolded  me  for  that.  1  should  feel 
so  much  better  if  you  would." 

"  Oh,  Stephen,  don't  say  that  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  God 
has  given  me  no  greater  happiness  in  this  life  than  the 
sight  of  the  gratitude  of  that  poor  creature,  Nancy.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  old  woman's  joy  at  the  sight  of  her 
daughter.  It  made  a  palace  out  of  that  dingy  furniture 
shop.  Hand  me  my  handkerchief,  dear." 

Stephen  noticed  with  a  pang  that  the  lace  of  it  was 
frayed  and  torn  at  the  corner. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Mrs.  Brice,  hastily  putting  the  hand 
kerchief  down. 

Hester  stood  on  the  threshold,  and  old  Nancy  beside  her. 

"  Evenin',  Mis'  Brice.  Da  good  Lawd  bless  you,  lady, 
an'  Miste'  Brice,"  said  the  old  negress. 

"  Well,  Nancy  ?  " 

Nancy  pressed  into  the  room.     "  Mis'  Brice  !  " 

"Yes?" 

"  Ain'  you  gwineter  'low  Hester  an'  me  to  wuk  fo'  you  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  should  be  glad  to,  Nancy.  But  we  are 
boarding." 

"  Yassm,  yassm,"  said  Nancy,  and  relapsed  into  awk 
ward  silence.  Then  again,  "  Mis'  Brice  !  " 

"  Yes,  Nancy  ?  " 

"  Ef  you  'lows  us  t'  come  heah  an'  straighten  out  you' 
close,  an'  mend  'em  —  you  dunno  how  happy  you  mek 
me  an'  Hester  —  des  to  do  dat  much,  Mis'  Brice." 

The  note  of  appeal  was  irresistible.  Mrs.  Brice  rose 
and  unlocked  the  trunks. 

"  You  may  unpack  them,  Nane}V  she  said. 

With  what  alacrity  did  the  old  woman  take  off  her 
black  bonnet  and  shawl  !  "  Whaffor  you  stannin'  dere, 
Hester  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  Hester  is  tired,"  said  Mrs.  Brice,  compassionately,  and 
tears  came  to  her  eyes  again  at  the  thought  of  what  they 
had  both  been  through  that  day. 

"  Tired,"  said  Nancy,  holding  up  her  hands.      "  No'm, 


58  THE   CRISIS 

she  ain'  tired.  She  des  kinder  stupefied  by  you'  goodness, 
Mis'  Brice." 

A  scene  was  saved  by  the  appearance  of  Miss  Crane's 
hired  girl. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cluyme,  in  the  parlor,  mum,"  she  said. 

If  Mr.  Jacob  Cluyme  sniffed  a  little  as  he  was  ushered 
into  Miss  Crane's  best  parlor,  it  was  perhaps  because  01 
the  stuffy  dampness  of  that  room.  Mr.  Cluyme  was  oiu 
of  those  persons  the  effusiveness  of  whose  greeting  doe.-, 
not  tally  with  the  limpness  of  their  grasp.  He  was 
attempting,  when  Stephen  appeared,  to  get  a  little  heat 
into  his  hands  by  rubbing  them,  as  a  man  who  kindles  a 
stick  of  wood  for  a  visitor.  The  gentleman  had  red  chop- 
whiskers,  —  to  continue  to  put  his  worst  side  foremost,  — 
which  demanded  a  ruddy  face.  He  welcomed  Stephen 
to  St.  Louis  with  neighborly  effusion ;  while  his  wife,  a 
round  little  woman,  bubbled  over  to  Mrs.  Brice. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Cluyme,  "  I  used  often  to  go 
to  Boston  in  the  forties.  In  fact  —  ahem  —  I  may  claim 
to  be  a  New  Englander.  Alas,  no,  I  never  met  your  father. 
But  when  I  heard  of  the  sad.  circumstances  of  his  death, 
I  felt  as  if  I  had  lost  a  personal  friend.  His  probity,  sir, 
and  his  religious  principles  were  an  honor  to  the  Athens 
of  America.  I  have  listened  to  my  friend,  Mr.  Atterbury, 
—  Mr.  Samuel  Atterbury,  —  eulogize  him  by  the  hour." 

Stephen  was  surprised. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  he,  "Mr.  Atterbury  was  a  friend." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Cluyme,  "  I  knew  it.  Four 
years  ago,  the  last  business  trip  I  made  to  Boston,  I  met 
Atterbury  on  the  street.  Absence  makes  no  difference  l«» 
some  men,  sir,  nor  the  West,  for  that  matter.  They  never 
change.  Atterbury  nearly  took  me  in  his  arms.  '  My 
dear  fellow,'  he  cried,  4  how  long  are  you  to  be  in 
town  ? '  I  was  going  the  next  day.  4  Sorry  I  can't  ask 
you  to  dinner,'  says  he,  l  but  step  into  the  Tremont 
House  and  have  a  bite.'  -  -  Wasn't  that  like  Atterbury  ?  " 

Stephen  thought  it  was.  But  Mr.  Cluyme  was  evi 
dently  expecting  no  answer. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  what  I  was  going  to  say  was  that  we 


CALLERS  59 

heard  you  were  in  town ;  '  Friends  of  Samuel  Atterbury, 
my  dear,'  I  said  to  my  wife.  We  are  neighbors,  Mr. 
Brice.  You  must  know  the  girls.  You  must  come  to 
supper.  We  live  very  plainly,  sir,  very  simply.  I  am 
afraid  that  you  will  miss  the  luxury  of  the  East,  and  some 
of  the  refinement,  Stephen.  I  hope  I  may  call  you  so,  my 
boy.  We  have  a  few  cultured  citizens,  Stephen,  but  all 
are  not  so.  I  miss  the  atmosphere.  I  seemed  to  live  again 
when  I  got  to  Boston.  But  business,  sir,  —  the  making  of 
money  is  a  sordid  occupation.  You  will  come  to  supper  ?  " 

"  1  scarcely  think  that  my  mother  will  go  out,"  said 
Stephen. 

"  Oh,  be  friends  !  It  will  cheer  her.  Not  a  dinner 
party,  my  boy,  only  a  plain,  comfortable  meal,  with  plenty 
to  eat.  Of  course  she  will.  Of  course  she  will.  Not  a 
Boston  social  function,  you  understand.  Boston,  Stephen, 
I  have  always  looked  upon  as  the  centre  of  the  universe. 
Our  universe,  I  mean.  America  for  Americans  is  a  motto 
of  mine.  Oh,  no,"  he  added  quickly,  "I  don't  mean  a 
Know  Nothing.  Religious  freedom,  my  boy,  is  part  of  our 
great  Constitution.  By  the  way,  Stephen — Atterbury 
always  had  such  a  respect  for  your  father's  opinions  —  " 

"  My  father  was  not  an  Abolitionist,  sir,"  said  Stephen, 
smiling, 

"  Quite  right,  quite  right,"  said  Mr.  Cluyme. 

"  But  I  am  not  sure,  since  I  have  come  here,  that  I  have 
not  some  sympathy  and  respect  for  the  Abolitionists." 

Mr.  Cluyme  gave  a  perceptible  start.  He  glanced  at 
the  heavy  hangings  on  the  windows  and  then  out  of  the 
open  door  into  the  hall.  For  a  space  his  wife's  chatter  to 
Mrs.  Brice,  on  Boston  fashions,  filled  the  room. 

"  My  dear  Stephen,"  said  the  gentleman,  dropping  his 
voice,  "that  is  all  very  well  in  Boston.  But  take  a  little 
advice  from  one  who  is  old  enough  to  counsel  you.  You 
are  young,  and  you  must  learn  to  temper  yourself  to  the 
tone  of  the  place  which  you  have  made  your  home.  St. 
Louis  is  full  of  excellent  people,  but  they  are  not  precisely 
Abolitionists.  We  are  gathering,  it  is  true,  a  small  party 
who  are  for  gradual  emancipation.  But  our  New  Eng- 


60  THE   CRISIS 

land  population  here  is  small  yet  compared  to  the  South 
erners.  And  they  are  very  violent,  sir." 

Stephen  could  not  resist  saying,  "  Judge  Whipple  does 
not  seem  to  have  tempered  himself,  sir." 

"  Silas  Whipple  is  a  fanatic,  sir,"  cried  Mr.  Cluyme. 
"  His  hand  is  against  every  man's.  t  He  denounces  Doug 
las  on  the  slightest  excuse,  and  would  go  to  Washington 
when  Congress  opens  to  fight  with  Stephens  and  Toombs 
and  Davis.  But  what  good  does  it  do  him  ?  He  might 
have  been  in  the  Senate,  or  on  the  Supreme  Bench,  had 
he  not  stirred  up  so  much  hatred.  And  yet  I  can't  help 
liking  Whipple.  Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

A  resounding  ring  of  the  door-bell  cut  off  Stephen's 
reply,  and  Mrs.  Cluyme's  small  talk  to  Mrs.  Brice.  In 
the  hall  rumbled  a  familiar  voice,  and  in  stalked  none 
other  than  Judge  Whipple  himself.  Without  noticing 
the  other  occupants  of  the  parlor  he  strode  up  to  Mrs. 
Brice,  looked  at  her  for  an  instant  from  under  the  grizzled 
brows,  and  held  out  his  large  hand. 

"Pray,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "  what  have  you  done  with 
your  slave  ?  " 

Mrs.  Cluyme  emitted  a  muffled  shriek,  like  that  of  a 
person  frightened  in  a  dream.  Her  husband  grasped  the 
curved  back  of  his  chair.  But  Stephen  smiled.  And  his 
mother  smiled  a  little,  too. 

"  Are  you  Mr.  Whipple  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  am,  madam,"  was  the  reply. 

"  My  slave  is  upstairs,  I  believe,  unpacking  my  trunks," 
said  Mrs.  Brice. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cluyme  exchanged  a  glance  of  consterna 
tion.  Then  Mrs.  Cluyme  sat  down  again,  rather  heavily, 
as  though  her  legs  had  refused  to  hold  her. 

"  Well,  well,  ma'am  !  "  The  Judge  looked  again  at 
Mrs.  Brice,  and  a  gleam  of  mirth  lighted  the  severity  of 
his  face.  He  was  plainly  pleased  with  her  —  this  serene 
lady  in  black,  whose  voice  had  the  sweet  ring  of  women 
who  are  well  born  and  whose  manner  was  so  self-con 
tained.  To  speak  truth,  the  Judge  was  prepared  to  dis 
like  her.  He  had  never  laid  eyes  upon  her,  and  as  he 


CALLERS  61 

walked  hither  from  his  house  he  seemed  to  foresee  a  help 
less  little  woman  who,  once  he  had  called,  would  fling  her 
Boston  pride  to  the  winds  and  dump  her  woes  upon  him. 
He  looked  again,  and  decidedly  approved  of  Mrs.  Brice, 
and  was  unaware  that  his  glance  embarrassed  her. 

"  Mr.  Whipple,"  she  said,  "do  you  know  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Cluyme  ?  " 

The  Judge  looked  behind  him  abruptly,  nodded  fero 
ciously  at  Mr.  Cluyme,  and  took  the  hand  that  fluttered 
out  to  him  from  Mrs.  Cluyme. 

"  Know  the  Judge  !  "  exclaimed  that  lady,  "  I  reckon  we 
do.  And  my  Belle  is  so  fond  of  him.  She  thinks  there 
is  no  one  equal  to  Mr.  Whipple.  Judge,  you  must  come 
round  to  a  family  supper.  Belle  will  surpass  herself." 

"  Umph  !  "  said  the  Judge,  "  I  think  I  like  Edith  best 
of  your  girls,  ma'am." 

"  Edith  is  a  good  daughter,  if  I  do  say  it  myself,"  said 
Mrs.  Cluyme.  "  I  have  tried  to  do  right  by  my  children." 
She  was  still  greatly  flustered,  and  curiosity  about  the 
matter  of  the  slave  burned  upon  her  face.  Neither  the 
Judge  nor  Mrs.  Brice  were  people  one  could  catechise. 
Stephen,  scanning  the  Judge,  was  wondering  how  far  he 
regarded  the  matter  as  a  joke. 

"  Well,  madam,"  said  Mr.  Whipple,  as  he  seated  himself 
on  the  other  end  of  the  horsehair  sofa,  "I'll  warrant  when 
you  left  Boston  that  you  did  not  expect  to  own  a  slave 
the  day  after  you  arrived  in  St.  Louis." 

"  But  I  do  not  own  her,"  said  Mrs.  Brice.  "  It  is  my 
son  who  owns  her." 

This  was  too  much  for  Mr.  Cluyme. 

"What  !  "  he  cried  to  Stephen.  "You  own  a  slave? 
You,  a  mere  boy,  have  bought^  a  negress  ?  " 

"  And  what  is  more,  sir,  I  approve  of  it,"  the  Judge  put 
in,  severely.  "  I  am  going  to  take  the  young  man  into  my 
office." 

Mr.  Cluyme  gradually  retired  into  the  back  of  his 
chair,  looking  at  Mr.  Whipple  as  though  he  expected 
him  to  touch  a  match  to  the  window  curtains.  But  Mr. 
Cluyme  was  elastic. 


62  THE   CRISIS 

"  Pardon  me,  Judge,"  said  he,  "  but  I  trust  that  I  may 
be  allowed  to  congratulate  you  upon  the  abandonment  of 
principles  which  I  have  considered  a  clog  to  your  career. 
They  did  you  honor,  sir,  but  they  were  Quixotic.  I,  sir, 
am  for  saving  our  glorious  Union  at  any  cost.  And  we 
have  no  right  to  deprive  our  brethren  of  their  property  — 
of  their  very  means  of  livelihood." 

The  Judge  grinned  diabolically.  Mrs.  Cluyme  was  as 
yet  too  stunned  to  speak.  Only  Stephen's  mother  sniffed 
gunpowder  in  the  air. 

"  This,  Mr.  Cluyme,"  said  the  Judge,  mildly,  "  is  an  age 
of  shifting  winds.  It  was  not  long  ago,"  he  added  reflec 
tively,  "  when  you  and  I  met  in  the  Planters'  House,  and 
you  declared  that  every  drop  of  Northern  blood  spilled  in 
Kansas  was  in  a  holy  cause.  Do  you  remember  it,  sir  ?  " 

Mr.  Cluyme  and  Mr.  Cluyme's  wife  alone  knew  whether 
he  trembled. 

"  And  I  repeat  that,  sir,"  he  cried,  with  far  too  much 
zeal.  "  I  repeat  it  here  and  now.  And  yet  I  was  for  the 
Omnibus  Bill,  and  I  am  with  Mr.  Douglas  in  his  local 
sovereignty.  I  am  willing  to  bury  my  abhorrence  of  a 
relic  of  barbarism,  for  the  sake  of  union  and  peace." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  am  not,"  retorted  the  Judge,  like  light 
ning.  He  rubbed  the  red  spot  on  his  nose,  and  pointed 
a  bony  finger  at  Mr.  Cluyme.  Many  a  criminal  had 
grovelled  before  that  finger.  "  I,  too,  am  for  the  Union. 
And  the  Union  will  never  be  safe  until  the  greatest  crime 
of  modern  times  is  wiped  out  in  blood.  Mind  what  I  say, 
Mr.  Cluyme,  in  blood,  sir,"  he  thundered. 

.Poor  Mrs.  Cluyme  gasped. 

"But  the  slave,  sir?  Did  I  not  understand  you  to 
appro ve  of  Mr.  Brice's  ownership  ?  " 

"  As  I  never  approved  of  any  other.  Good  night,  sir. 
Good  night,  madam."  But  to  Mrs.  Brice  he  crossed  over 
and  took  her  hand.  It  has  been  further  claimed  that  he 
bowed.  This  is  not  certain. 

"  Good  night,  madam,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  call  again  to 
pay  my  respects  when  you  are  not  occupied." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

BELLEGARDE 

Miss  VIRGINIA  CARVEL  came  down  the  steps  in  her  rid 
ing-habit.  And  Ned,  who  had  been  waiting  in  the  street 
with  the  horses,  obsequiously  held  his  hand  while  his 
young  mistress  leaped  into  Vixen's  saddle.  Leaving  the 
darkey  to  follow  upon  black  Calhoun,  she  cantered  off  up 
the  street,  greatly  to  the  admiration  of  the  neighbors. 
They  threw  open  their  windows  to  wave  at  her,  but  Vir 
ginia  pressed  her  lips  and  stared  straight  ahead.  She  was 
going  out  to  see  the  Russell  girls  at  their  father's  country 
place  on  Bellefontaine  Road,  especially  to  proclaim  her 
detestation  for  a  certain  young  Yankee  upstart.  She  had 
unbosomed  herself  to  Anne  Brinsmade  and  timid  Eugenie 
Renault  the  day  before. 

It  was  Indian  summer,  the  gold  and  purple  season  of 
the  year.  Frost  had  come  and  gone.  Wasps  were  buzz 
ing  confusedly  about  the  eaves  again,  marvelling  at  the 
balmy  air,  and  the  two  Misses  Russell,  Puss  and  Emily, 
were  seated  within  the  wide  doorway  at  needlework  when 
Virginia  dismounted  at  the  horseblock. 

"  Oh,  Jinny,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Miss  Russell. 
"  Here's  Elise  Saint  Simon  from  New  Orleans.  You  mus^ 
.stay  all  day  and  to-night." 

"  I  can't,  Puss,"  said  Virginia,  submitting  impatiently 
to  Miss  Russell's  warm  embrace.  She  was  disappointed 
at  finding  the  stranger.  "1  .  ^ly  came  —  to  say  that  I 
am  going  to  have  a  birthday  pai -../  in  a  few  weeks.  You 
must  be  sure  to  come,  and  bring  your  guest." 

Virginia  took  her  bridle  from  Ned,  and  Miss  Russell's 
hospitable  face  fell. 

"  You're  not  going  ?  "  she  said. 

63 


64  THE   CRISIS 

"To  Bellegarde  for  dinner,"  answered  Virginia. 

44  But  it's  only  ten  o'clock,"  said  Puss.      44  And,  Jinny  ?  " 

44  Yes." 

44  There's  a  new  young  man  in  town,  and  they  do  say 
his  appearance  is  very  striking  —  not  exactly  handsome, 
you  know,  but  strong  looking." 

44  He's  horrid  !  "  said  Virginia.     44  He's  a  Yankee." 

44  How  do  you  know  ?  "  demanded  Puss  and  Emily  in 
chorus. 

44  And  he's  no  gentleman,"  said  Virginia. 

44  But  how  do  you  know,  Jinny  ?  " 

44  He's  an  upstart." 

44  Oh.  But  he  belongs  to  a  very  good  Boston  family, 
they  say." 

44  There  are  no  good  Boston  families,"  replied  Virginia, 
with  conviction,  as  she  separated  her  reins.  44  He  has 
proved  that.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  good  Yankee  family  ?  " 

44  What  has  he  done  to  you,  Virginia  ? "  asked  Puss, 
who  had  brains. 

Virginia  glanced  at  the  guest.  But  her  grievance  was 
too  hot  within  her  for  suppression. 

44  Do  you  remember  Mr.  Benbow's  Hester,  girls  ?  The 
one  I  always  said  I  wanted.  She  was  sold  at  auction 
yesterday.  Pa  and  I  were  passing  the  Court  House,  with 
Clarence,  when  she  was  put  up  for  sale.  We  crossed  the 
street  to  see  what  was  going  on,  and  there  was  your 
strong-looking  Yankee  standing  at  the  edge  of  the 
crowd.  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  saw  me  as  plainly  as  I 
see  you,  Puss  Russell." 
,  44  How  could  he  help  it  ?  "  said  Puss,  slyly. 

Virginia  took  no  notice  of  the  remark. 

44  He  heard  me  ask  Pa  to  buy  her.  He  heard  Clarence 
say  that  he  would  bid  her  in  for  me.  I  know  he  did. 
And  yet  he  goes  in  and  atbids  Clarence,  and  buys  her 
himself.  Do  you  think  any  gentleman  would  do  that, 
Puss  Russell  ?  " 

44  He  bought  her  himself  !  "  cried  the  astonished  Miss 
Russell.  44  Why,  I  thought  that  all  Bostonians  were 
Abolitionists." 


BELLEGAEDE  65 

"  Then  he  set  her  free,"  said  Miss  Carvel,  contemptu 
ously.  "Judge  Whipple  went  on  her  bond  to-day." 

"  Oh,  I'm  just  crazy  to  see  him  now,"  said  Miss  Russell. 
"Ask  him  to  your  party,  Virginia,"  she  added  mis 
chievously. 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  have  him  in  my  house  ?  "  cried 
Virginia. 

Miss  Russell  was  likewise  courageous  —  "I  don't  see 
why  not.  You  have  Judge  Whipple  every  Sunday  to 
dinner,  and  he's  an  Abolitionist." 

Virginia  drew  herself  up. 

"  Judge  Whipple  has  never  insulted  me,"  she  said,  with 
dignity. 

Puss  gave  way  to  laughter.  Whereupon,  despite  her 
protests  and  prayers  for  forgiveness,  Virginia  took  to  her 
mare  again  and  galloped  off.  They  saw  her  turn  north 
ward  on  the  Bellefontaine  Road. 

Presently  the  woodland  hid  from  her  sight  the  noble 
river  shining  far  below,  and  Virginia  pulled  Vixen 
between  the  gateposts  which  marked  the  entrance  to  her 
aunt's  place,  Bellegarde.  Half  a  mile  through  the  cool 
forest,  the  black  dirt  of  the  driveway  flying  from  Vixen's 
hoofs,  and  there  was  the  Colfax  house  on  the  edge  of  the 
gentle  slope  ;  and  beyond  it  the  orchard,  and  the  blue 
grapes  withering  on  the  vines,  —  and  beyond  that  fields 
and  fields  of  yellow  stubble.  The  silver  smoke  of  a  steam 
boat  hung  in  wisps  above  the  water.  A  young  negro  was 
busily  washing  the  broad  veranda,  but  he  stopped  and 
straightened  at  sight  of  the  young  horsewoman. 

"  Sambo,  where's  your  mistress  ?  " 

"  Clar  t'  goodness,  Miss  Jinny,  she  was  heah  leetle 
while  ago." 

"  Yo'  git  atter  Miss  Lilly,  yo'  good-fo'-nuthin'  niggah," 
said  Ned,  warmly.  "Ain't  yo'  be'n  raised  better'n  to 
stan'  then  wif  yo'  mouf  open  ?  " 

Sambo  was  taking  the  hint,  when  Miss  Virginia  called 
him  back. 

"  Where's  Mr.  Clarence  ?  " 

"  Young  Masr  ?     I'll  fotch  him,  Miss  Jinny.     He  jes' 


66  THE   CKISIS 

come  home  fum  seem'  that  thar  trottin'  hoss  he's  gwine 
to  race  nex'  week." 

Ned,  who  had  tied  Calhoun  and  was  holding  his  mis 
tress's  bridle,  sniffed.  He  had  been  Colonel  Carvel's 
jockey  in  his  younger  days. 

"  Shucks  !  "  he  said  contemptuously.  "I  hoped  to  die 
befo'  the  day  a  gemman'd  own  er  trottah,  Jinny.  On'y 
runnin'  hosses  is  fit  fo'  gemmen." 

u  Ned,"  said  Virginia,  "  I  shall  be  eighteen  in  two 
weeks  and  a  young  lady.  On  that  day  you  must  call  me 
4  Miss  Jinny.' ' 

Ned's  face  showed  both  astonishment  and  inquiry. 

"  Jinny,  ain't  I  missed  you  always  ?  Ain't  I  come  up 
stairs  to  quiet  you  when  yo'  mammy  ain't  had  no  power 
ovah  yo'  ?  Ain't  I  cooked  fo'  yo',  and  ain't  I  followed 
you  everywheres  since  I  quit  ridin'  yo'  pa's  hosses  to  vic- 
t'ry  ?  Ain't  I  one  of  de  fambly  ?  An'  yit  yo'  ax  me  to 
call  yo'  Miss  Jinny  ?  " 

"Then  you've  had  privileges  enough,"  Virginia  an 
swered.  "  One  week  from  to-morrow  you  are  ~to  say 
4  Miss  Jinny.'  " 

"  1'se  tell  you  what,  Jinny,"  he  answered  mischievously, 
with  an  emphasis  on  the  word,  "I'se  call  you  Miss 
Jinny  ef  you'll  call  me  Mistah  Johnson.  Mistah  Johnson. 
You  aint  gwinter  forget  ?  Mistah  Johnson." 

"I'll  remember,"  she  said.  "Ned,"  she  demanded  sud 
denly,  "  would  you  like  to  be  free  ?  " 

The  negro  started. 

"  Why  you  ax  me  dat,  Jinny  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Benbow's  Hester  is  free,"  she  said. 

"  Who  done  freed  her  ?  " 

Miss  Virginia  flushed.  "  A  detestable  young  Yankee, 
who  has  come  out  here  to  meddle  with  what  doesn't  con 
cern  him.  I  wanted  Hester,  Ned.  And  you  should  have 
married  her,  if  you  behaved  yourself." 

Ned  laughed  uneasily. 

"I  reckon  I'se  too  .ol'  fo'  Heste'."  And  added  with 
privileged  impudence,  "  There  ain't  no  cause  why  I  can't 
marry  her  now." 


BELLEGAEDE  67 

Virginia  suddenly  leaped  to  the  ground  without  his 
assistance. 

"  That's  enough,  Ned,"  she  said,  and  started  toward  the 
house. 

"  Jinny  !  Miss  Jinny  !  "     The  call  was  plaintive. 

"  Well,  what  ?  " 

"  Miss  Jinny,  I  seed  that  thar  young  gemman.  Lan' 
sakes,  he  ain'  look  like  er  Yankee  —  " 

"  Ned,"  said  Virginia,  sternly,  "  do  you  want  to  go 
back  to  cooking  ?  " 

He  quailed.  "  Oh,  no'm.  Lan'  sakes,  no'm.  I  didn't 
mean  nuthin'." 

She  turned,  frowned,  and  bit  her  lip.  Around  the  cor 
ner  of  the  veranda  she  ran  into  her  cousin.  He,  too,  was 
booted  and  spurred.  He  reached  out,  boyishly,  to  catch 
her  in  his  arms.  But  she  drew  back  from  his  grasp. 

"  Why,  Jinny,"  he  cried,  "  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  Max."  She  often  called  him  so,  his  middle 
name  being  Maxwell.  u  But  you  have  no  right  to  do 
that." 

"  To  do  what  ?  "  said  Clarence,  making  a  face. 

"  You  know,"  answered  Virginia,  curtly.  "  Where's 
Aunt  Lillian  ?  " 

"  Why  haven't  I  the  right  ?  "  he  asked,  ignoring  the 
inquiry. 

u  Because  you  have  not,  unless  I  choose.  And  I  don't 
choose." 

"  Are  you  angry  with  me  still  ?  It  wasn't  my  fault. 
Uncle  Comyn  made  me  come  away.  You  should  have 
had  the  girl,  Jinny,  if  it  took  my  fortune." 

u  You  have  been  drinking  this  morning,  Max,"  said 
Virginia. 

"  Only  a  julep  or  so,"  he  replied  apologetically.  "  I 
rode  over  to  the  race  track  to  see  the  new  trotter.  I've 
called  him  Halcyon,  Jinny,"  he  continued,  with  enthusi 
asm.  "  And  he'll  win  the  handicap  sure." 

She  sat  down  on  the  veranda  steps,  with  her  knees 
crossed  and  her  chin  resting  on  her  hands.  The  air  was 
heavy  with  the  perfume  of  the  grapes  and  the  smell  of 


68  THE   CRISIS 

late  flowers  from  the  sunken  garden  near  by.  A  blue 
haze  hung  over  the  Illinois  shore. 

"Max,  you  promised  me  you  wouldn't  drink  so  much." 

"  And  I  haven't  been,  Jinny,  'pon  my  word,"  he  replied. 
"  But  I  met  old  Sparks  at  the  Tavern,  and  he  started  to 
talk  about  the  horses,  and  —  and  he  insisted." 

"  And  you  hadn't  the  strength  of  character,"  she  said, 
scornfully,  "  to  refuse." 

"  Pshaw,  Jinny,  a  gentleman  must  be  a  gentleman.  I'm 
no  Yankee." 

For  a  space  Virginia  answered  nothing.  Then  she  said, 
without  changing  her  position  :  — 

"If  you  were,  you  might  be  worth  something." 

"  Virginia !  " 

She  did  not  reply,  but  sat  gazing  toward  the  water.  He 
began  to  pace  the  veranda,  fiercely. 

"  Look  here,  Jinny,"  he  cried,  pausing  in  front  of  her. 
"There  are  some  things  you  can't  say  to  me,  even  in  jest." 

Virginia  rose,  flicked  her  riding-whip,  and  started  down 
the  steps. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Max,"  she  said. 

He  followed  her,  bewildered.  She  skirted  the  garden, 
passed  the  orchard,  and  finally  reached  a  summer  house 
perched  on  a  knoll  at  the  edge  of  the  wood.  Then  she 
seated  herself  on  a  bench,  silently.  He  took  a  place  on 
the  opposite  side,  with  his  feet  stretched  out,  dejectedly. 

"  I'm  tired  trying  to  please  you,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
been  a  fool.  You  don't  care  that  for  me.  It  was  all 
right  when  I  was  younger,  when  there  was  no  one  else  to 
take  you  riding,  and  jump  off  the  barn  for  your  amuse 
ment,  Miss.  Now  you  have  Tom  Catherwood  and  Jack 
Brinsmade  and  the  Russell  boys  running  after  you,  it's 
different.  I  reckon  I'll  go  to  Kansas.  There  are  Yankees 
to  shoot  in  Kansas." 

He  did  not  see  her  smile  as  he  sat  staring  at  his 
feet. 

"  Max,"  said  she,  all  at  once,  "  why  don't  you  settle 
down  to  something  ?  Why  don't  you  work  ?  " 

Young  Mr.  Colfax's  arm  swept  around  in  a  circle. 


BELLEGARDE  69 

44  There  are  twelve  hundred  acres  to  look  after  here,  and 
a  few  niggers.  That's  enough  for  a  gentleman." 

u  Pooh  !  "  exclaimed  his  cousin,  "  this  isn't  a  cotton 
plantation.  Aunt  Lillian  doesn't  farm  for  money.  If 
she  did,  you  would  have  to  check  your  extravagances 
mighty  quick,  sir." 

44  I  look  after  Pompey's  reports,  I  do  as  much  work  as 
my  ancestors,"  answered  Clarence,  hotly. 

44  All,  that  is  the  trouble,"  said  Virginia. 

44  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  her  cousin  demanded. 

44  We  have  been  gentlemen  too  long,"  said  Virginia^ 

The  boy  straightened  up  and  rose.  The  pride  and 
wilfulness  of  generations  was  indeed  in  his  handsome  face. 
And  something  else  went  with  it.  Around  the  mouth  a 
grave  tinge  of  indulgence. 

uWhat  has  your  life  been?"  she  went  on,  speaking 
rapidly.  44  A  mixture  of  gamecocks  and  ponies  and  race 
horses  and  billiards,  and  idleness  at  the  Virginia  Springs, 
and  fighting  with  other  boys.  What  do  you  know  ? 
You  wouldn't  go  to  college.  You  wouldn't  study  law. 
You  can't  write  a  decent  letter.  You  don't  know  any 
thing  about  the  history  of  your  country.  What  can 
you  do  —  ?  " 

k4 1  can  ride  and  fight,"  he  said.  "  I  can  go  to  New 
Orleans  to-morrow  to  join  Walker's  Nicaragua  expedition. 
We've  got  to  beat  the  Yankees,  —  they'll  have  Kansas 
away  from  us  before  we  know  it." 

Virginia's  eye  flashed  appreciation. 

44  Do  you  remember,  Jinny,"  he  cried,  44  one  day  long 
ago  when  those  Dutch  hoodlums  were  teasing  you  and 
Anne  on  the  road,  and  Bert  Russell  and  Jack  and  I  came 
along?  We  whipped  'em,  Jinny.  And  my  eye  was 
closed.  And  you  were  bathing  it  here,  and  one  of  my 
buttons  was  gone.  And  you  counted  the  rest." 

44  Rich  man,  poor  man,  beggar-man,  thief,  —  doctor, 
lawyer,  merchant,  chief"  she  recited,  laughing.  She  crossed 
over  and  sat  beside  him,  and  her  tone  changed.  44  Max, 
can't  you  understand  ?  It  isn't  that.  Max,  if  you  would 
only  work  at  something.  That  is  why  the  Yankees  beat 


70  THE   CRISIS 

us.  If  you  would  learn  to  weld  iron,  or  to  build  bridges, 
or;  railroads.  Or  if  you  would  learn  business,  and  go  to 
work  in  Pa's  store." 

"  You  do  not  care  for  me  as  I  am  ?  " 

"  I  knew  that  you  did  not  understand,"  she  answered 
passionately.  "  It  is  because  I  care  for  you  that  I  wish 
to  make  you  great.  You  care  too  much  for  a  good  time, 
for  horses,  Max.  You  love  the  South,  but  you  think  too 
little  how  she  is  to  be  saved.  If  war  is  to  come,  we  shall 
want  men  like  that  Captain  Robert  Lee  who  was  here. 
A  man  who  can  turn  the  forces  of  the  earth  to  his  own 
purposes." 

For  a  moment  Clarence  was  moodily  silent. 

"  I  have  always  intended  to  go  into  politics,  after  Pa's 
example,"  he  said  at  length. 

"Then  —  "  began  Virginia,  and  paused. 

"  Then  —  ?  "  he  said. 

"Then  —  you  must  study  law." 

He  gave  her  the  one  keen  look.  And  she  met  it,  with 
her  lips  tightly  pressed  together.  Then  he  smiled. 

"Virginia,  you  will  never  forgive  that  Yankee,  Brice." 

"  I  shall  never  forgive  any  Yankee,"  she  retorted 
quickly.  "  But  we  are  not  talking  about  him.  I  am 
thinking  of  the  South,  and  of  you." 

He  stooped  toward  her  face,  but  she  avoided  him  and 
went  back  to  the  bench. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  said. 

"  You  must  prove  first  that  you  are  a  man,"  she  said. 

For  years  he  remembered  the  scene.  The  vineyard, 
the  yellow  stubble,  and  the  river  rushing  on  and  on  with 
tranquil  power,  and  the  slow  panting  of  the  steamboat. 
A  doe  ran  out  of  the  forest,  and  paused,  he*-  head  raised, 
not  twenty  feet  away. 

"  And  then  you  will  marry  me,  Jinny  ? "  he  asked 
finally. 

"  Before  you  may  hope  to  control  another,  we  shall  see 
whether  you  can  control  yourself,  sir." 

"  But  it  has  all  been  arranged,"  he  exclaimed,  "  since 
we  played  here  together  years  ago  !  " 


BELLEGARDE  71 

"  No  one  shall  arrange  that  for  me,"  replied  Virginia, 
promptly.  "  And  I  should  think  that  you  would  wish 
to  have  some  of  the  credit  for  yourself." 

"  Jinny  !  " 

Again  she  avoided  him  by  leaping  the  low  railing. 
The  doe  fled  into  the  forest,  whistling  fearfully.  Vir 
ginia  waved  her  hand  to  him  and  started  toward  the 
house.  At  the  corner  of  the  porch  she  ran  into  her  aunt. 

Mrs.  Colfax  was  a  beautiful  woman.  Beautiful  when 
Addison  Colfax  married  her  in  Kentucky  at  nineteen,  beau 
tiful  still  at  three  and  forty.  This,  I  am  aware,  is  a  bald 
statement.  "  Prove  it,"  you  say.  "  We  do  not  believe 
it.  It  was  told  you  by  some  old  beau  who  lives  upon 
the  memory  of  the  past." 

Ladies,  a  score  of  different  daguerrotypes  of  Lillian 
Colfax  are  in  existence.  And  whatever  may  be  said  of 
portraits,  daguerrotypes  do  not  flatter.  All  the  town 
admitted  that  she  was  beautiful.  All  the  town  knew  that 
she  was  the  daughter  of  old  Judge  Colfax's  overseer  at 
Halcyondale.  If  she  had  not  been  beautiful,  Addison  Col 
fax  would  not  have  run  away  with  her.  That  is  certain. 
He  left  her  a  rich  widow  at  five  and  twenty,  mistress  of 
the  country  place  he  had  bought  on  the  Bellefontaine 
Road,  near  St.  Louis.  And  when  Mrs.  Colfax  was  not 
dancing  off  to  the  Virginia  watering-places,  Bellegarde 
was  a  gay  house. 

"  Jinny,"  exclaimed  her  aunt,  "  how  you  scared  me  ! 
What  on  earth  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"Nothing,"  said  Virginia  — 

"  She  refused  to  kiss  me,"  put  in  Clarence,  half  in  play, 
half  in  resentment. 

Mrs.  Colfax  laughed  musically.  She  put  one  of  her 
white  hands  on  each  of  her  niece's  cheeks,  kissed  her,  and 
then  gazed  into  her  face  until  Virginia  reddened. 

"  Law,  Jinny,  you're  quite  pretty,"  said  her  aunt. 
"  I  hadn't  realized  it  —  but  you  must  take  care  of  your 
complexion.  You're  horribly  sunburned,  and  you  let 
your  hair  blow  all  over  your  face.  It's  barbarous  not  to 
wear  a  mask  when  you  ride.  Your  Pa  doesn't  look  after 


72  THE   CRISIS 

you  properly.  I  would  ask  you  to  stay  to  the  dance 
to-night  if  your  skin  were  only  white,  instead  of  red. 
You're  old  enough  to  know  better,  Virginia.  Mr.  Vance 
was  to  have  driven  out  for  dinner.  Have  you  seen  him, 
Clarence  ?  " 

uNo,  mother." 

"  He  is  so  amusing,"  Mrs.  Colfax  continued,  "  and  he 
generally  brings  candy.  I  shall  die  of  the  blues  before 
supper."  She  sat  down  with  a  grand  air  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  while  Alfred  took  the  lid  from  the  silver  soup- 
tureen  in  front  of  her.  "  Jinny,  can't  you  say  some 
thing  bright  ?  Do  I  have  to  listen  to  Clarence's  horse 
talk  for  another  hour  ?  Tell  me  some  gossip.  Will  you 
have  some  gumbo  soup  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  listen  to  Clarence's  horse  talk  ? "  said 
Virginia.  "  Why  don't  you  make  him  go  to  work  ?  " 

"  Mercy  !  "  said  Mrs.  Colfax,  laughing,  "  what  could  he 
do?" 

"  That's  just  it,"  said  Virginia.  "  He  hasn't  a  serious 
interest  in  life." 

Clarence  looked  sullen.  And  his  mother,  as  usual,  took 
his  side. 

44  What  put  that  into  your  head,  Jinny,"  she  said.  "  He 
has  the  place  here  to  look  after,  a  very  gentlemanly  occu 
pation.  That's  what  they  do  in  Virginia." 

"  Yes,"  said  Virginia,  scornfully,  "  we're  all  gentlemen 
in  the  South.  What  do  we  know  about  business  and 
developing  the  resources  of  the  country  ?  Not  that." 

"  You  make  my  head,  ache,  my  dear,"  was  her  aunt's 
reply.  "  Where  did  you  get  all  this  ?  " 

"  You  ask  me  because  I  am  a  girl,"  said  Virginia. 
"  You  believe  that  women  were  made  to  look  at,  and  to 
play  with,  —  not  to  think.  But  if  we  are  going  to  get 
ahead  of  the  Yankees,  we  shall  have  to  think.  It  was  all 
very  well  to  be  a  gentleman  in  the  days  of  my  great-grand 
father.  But  now  we  have  railroads  and  steamboats.  And 
who  builds  them?  The  Yankees.  We  of  the  South 
think  of  our  ancestors,  and  drift  deeper  and  deeper  into 
debt.  We  know  how  to  fight,  and  we  know  how  to  com- 


BELLEGARDE  73 

mand.  But  we  have  been  ruined  by—  "  here  she  glanced 
at  the  retreating  form  of  Alfred,  and  lowered  her  voice, 
"by  niggers." 

Mrs.  Colfax's  gaze  rested  languidly  on  her  niece's  face, 
which  glowed  with  indignation. 

"  You  get  this  terrible  habit  of  argument  from  Comyn," 
she  said.  u  He  ought  to  send  you  to  boarding-school. 
How  mean  of  Mr.  Vance  not  to  come  !  You've  been  talk 
ing  with  that  old  reprobate  Whipple.  Why  does  Comyn 
put  up  with  him  ?  " 

"  He  isn't  an  old  reprobate,"  said  Virginia,  warmly. 

"  You  really  ought  to  go  to  school,"  said  her  aunt. 
"  Don't  be  eccentric.  It  isn't  fashionable.  I  suppose 
you  wish  Clarence  to  go  into  a  factory." 

"  If  I  were  a  man,"  said  Virginia,  "  and  going  into  a 
factory  would  teach  me  how  to  make  a  locomotive  or  a 
cotton  press,  or  to  build  a  bridge,  I  should  go  into  a  fac 
tory.  We  shall  never  beat  the  Yankees  until  we  meet 
them  on  their  own  ground." 

"  There  is  Mr.  Vance  now,"  said  Mrs.  Colfax,  and  added 
fervently,  "  Thank  the  Lord  !  " 


CHAPTER   IX 

A   QUIET   SUNDAY   IN   LOCUST   STREET 

IF  the  truth  were  known  where  Virginia  got  the  opin 
ions  which  she  expressed  so  freely  to  her  aunt  and  cousin, 
it  was  from  Colonel  Carvel  himself.  The  Colonel  would 
rather  have  denounced  the  Dred  Scott  decision  than  ad 
mit  to  Judge  Whipple  that  one  of  the  greatest  weaknesses 
of  the  South  lay  in  her  lack  of  mechanical  and  manufac 
turing  ability.  But  he  had  confessed  as  much  in  private 
to  Captain  Elijah  Brent.  The  Colonel  would  often  sit 
for  an  hour  or  more,  after  supper,  with  his  feet  tucked  up 
on  the  mantel  and  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  buried 
in  thought.  Then  he  would  saunter  slowly  down  to  the 
Planters'  House  bar,  which  served  the  purposes  of  a  club 
in  those  days,  in  search  of  an  argument  with  other  promi 
nent  citizens.  The  Colonel  had  his  own  particular  chair 
in  his  own  particular  corner,  which  was  always  vacated 
when  he  came  in  at  the  door.  And  then  he  always  had 
three  fingers  of  the  best  Bourbon  whiskey,  no  more  and 
no  less,  every  evening. 

He  never  met  his  bosom  friend  and  pet  antagonist  at 
the  Planters'  House  bar.  Judge  Whipple,  indeed,  took  his 
meals  upstairs,  but  he  never  descended, —  it  was  generally 
supposed  because  of  the  strong  slavery  atmosphere  there. 
However,  the  Judge  went  periodically  to  his  friend's 
for  a  quiet  Sunday  dinner  (so  called  in  derision  by  St. 
Louisans),  on  which  occasions  Virginia  sat  at  the  end  of 
the  table  and  endeavored  to  pour  water  on  the  flames  when 
they  flared  up  too  fiercely. 

The  Sunday  following  her  ride  to  Bellegarde  was  the 
Judge's  Sunday.  Certain  tastes  which  she  had  inherited 
had  hitherto  provided  her  with  pleasurable  sensations 

74 


A   QUIET   SUNDAY   IN   LOCUST   STREET        75 

while  these  battles  were  in  progress.  More  than  once 
had  she  scored  a  fair  hit  on  the  Judge  for  her  father,  —  to 
the  mutual  delight  of  both  gentlemen.  But  to-day  she 
dreaded  being  present  at  the  argument.  Just  why  she 
dreaded  it  is  a  matter  of  feminine  psychology  best  left  to 
the  reader  for  solution. 

The  argument  began,  as  usual,  with  the  tearing  apart 
limb  by  limb  of  the  unfortunate  Franklin  Pierce,  by 
Judge  Whipple. 

"  Wh.at  a  miserable  exhibition  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,'' 
said  the  Judge.  "  Franklin  Pierce  of  New  Hampshire  " 
(he  pronounced  this  name  with  infinite  scorn)  "  managed 
by  Jefferson  Davis  of  Mississippi !  " 

"  And  he  was  well  managed,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  What  a  pliant  tool  of  your  Southern  slaveholders  ! 
I  hear  that  you  are  to  give  him  a  plantation  as  a  re 
ward." 

44  No  such  thing,  sir." 

"  He  deserves  it,"  continued  the  Judge,  with  convic 
tion.  "  See  the  magnificent  forts  he  permitted  Davis  to 
build  up  in  the  South,  the  arsenals  he  let  him  stock. 
The  country  does  not  realize  this.  But  the  day  will 
come  when  they  will  execrate  Pierce  before  Benedict 
Arnold,  sir.  And  look  at  the  infamous  Kansas-Nebraska 
act  !  That  is  the  greatest  crime,  and  Douglas  and  Pierce 
the  greatest  criminals,  of  the  century." 

"  Do  have  some  more  of  that  fried  chicken,  Judge," 
said  Virginia. 

Mr.  Whipple  helped  himself  fiercely,  and  the  Colonel 
smiled. 

"  You  should  be  satisfied  now,"  said  he.  "Another 
Northern  man  is  in  the  White  House." 

"  Buchanan!  "  roared  the  Judge,  with  his  mouth  full. 
"Another  traitor,  sir.  Another  traitor  worse  than  the 
first.  He  swallows  the  Dred  Scott  decision,  and  smirks. 
What  a  blot  on  the  history  of  this  Republic  !  O  Lord  !  " 
cried  Mr.  Whipple,  "  what  are  we  coming  to  ?  A  North 
ern  man,  he  could  gag  and  bind  Kansas  and  force  her 
into  slavery  against  the  will  of  her  citizens.  He  packs 


76  THE   CRISIS 

his  Cabinet  to  support  the  ruffians  you  send  over  the 
borders.  The  very  governors  he  ships  out  there,  his 
henchmen,  have  their  stomachs  turned.  Look  at  Walker, 
whom  they  are  plotting  against  in  Washington.  He 
can't  stand  the  smell  of  this  Lecompton  Constitution 
Buchanan  is  trying  to  jam  down  their  throats.  Jeffer 
son  Davis  would  have  troops  there,  to  be  sure  that  it  goes 
through,  if  he  had  his  way.  Can't  you  see  how  one  sin 
leads  to  another,  Carvel  ?  How  slavery  is  rapidly  de 
moralizing  a  free  people  ?  " 

"  It  is  because  you  won't  let  it  alone  where  it  belongs, 
sir,"  retorted  the  Colonel.  It  was  seldom  that  he  showed 
any  heat  in  his  replies.  He  talked  slowly,  and  he  had  a 
way  of  stretching  forth  his  hand  to  prevent  the  more 
eager  Judge  from  interrupting  him. 

"  The  welfare  of  the  whole  South,  as  matters  now 
stand,  sir,  depends  upon  slavery.  Our  plantations  could 
not  exist  a  day  without  slave  labor.  If  you  abolished 
that  institution,  Judge  Whipple,  you  would  ruin  millions 
of  your  fellow-countrymen,  — you  would  reduce  sovereign 
states  to  a  situation  of  disgraceful  dependence.  And  all, 
sir,"  now  he  raised  his  voice  lest  the  Judge  break  in,  "  all, 
sir,  for  the  sake  of  a  low  breed  that  ain't  fit  for  freedom. 
You  and  I,  who  have  the  Magna  Charta  and  the  Declara 
tion  of  Independence  behind  us,  who  are  descended  from 
a  race  that  has  done  nothing  but  rule  for  ten  centuries 
and  more,  may  well  establish  a  Republic  where  the  basis 
of  stability  is  the  self-control  of  the  individual  —  as  long 
as  men  such  as  you  and  I  form  its  citizens.  Look  at  the 
South  Americans.  How  do  Republics  go  there  ?  And 
the  minute  you  and  I  let  in  niggers,  who  haven't  any 
more  self-control  than  dogs,  on  an  equal  basis,  with  as 
much  of  a  vote  as  you  have,  —  niggers,  sir,  that  have 
lived  like  wild  beasts  in . the  depths  of  the  jungle  since  the 
days  of  Ham,  —  what's  going  to  become  of  our  Republic  ?  " 

"  Education,"  cried  the  Judge. 

But  the  word  was  snatched  out  of  his  mouth. 

"  Education  isn't  a  matter  of  one  generation.  No,  sir, 
nor  two,  nor  three,  nor  four.  But  of  centuries." 


A   QUIET   SUNDAY  IN   LOCUST   STREET         77 

"  Sir,"  said  the  Judge,  "  I  can  point  out  negroes  of 
intelligence  and  learning." 

fct  And  I  reckon  you  could  teach  some  monkeys  to  talk 
English,  and  recite  the  catechism,  and  sing  emotional 
hymns,  if  you  brought  over  a  couple  of  million  from 
Africa,"  answered  the  Colonel,  dryly,  as  he  rose  to  put  on 
his  hat  and  light  a  cigar. 

It  was  his  custom  to  offer  a  cigar  to  the  Judge,  who 
invariably  refused,  and  rubbed  his  nose  with  scornful 
violence. 

Virginia,  on  the  verge  of  leaving,  stayed  on,  fascinated 
by  the  turn  the  argument  had  taken. 

"  Your  prejudice  is  hide-bound,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Whipple. 

"  No,  Whipple,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  when  God  washed 
off  this  wicked  earth,  and  started  new,  He  saw  fit  to  put 
the  sons  of  Ham  in  subjection.  They're  slaves  of  each 
other  in  Africa,  and  I  reckon  they're  treated  no  better 
than  they  are  here.  Abuses  can't  be  helped  in  any  system, 
sir,  though  we  are  bettering  them.  Were  the  poor  in 
London  in  the  days  of  the  Edwards  as  well  off  as  our 
niggers  are  to-day  ?  " 

The  Judge  snorted. 

"  A  divine  institution  !  "  he  shouted.  "  A  black  curse  ! 
Because  the  world  has  been  a  wicked  place  of  oppression 
since  Noah's  day,  is  that  any  reason  why  it  should  so  con 
tinue  until  the  day  of  Judgment  ?  " 

The  Colonel  smiled,  which  was  a  sign  that  he  was 
pleased  with  his  argument. 

"  Now,  see  here,  Whipple,"  said  he.  "  If  we  had  any 
guarantee  that  you  would  let  us  alone  where  we  are,  to 
manage  our  slaves  and  to  cultivate  our  plantations,  there 
wouldn't  be  any  trouble.  But  the  country  keeps  on  grow 
ing  and  growing,  and  you're  not  content  with  half.  You 
want  everything,  —  all  the  new  states  must  abolish  slavery. 
And  after  a  while  you  will  overwhelm  us,  and  ruin  us, 
and  make  us  paupers.  Do  you  wonder  that  we  contend 
for  our  rights,  tooth  and  nail  ?  They  are  our  rights." 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  Virginia  and  Maryland  and  the 
South,  this  nation  would  not  be  in  existence." 


78  THE   CRISIS 

The  Colonel  laughed. 

"  First  rate,  Jinny,"  he  cried.     "  That's  so." 

But  the  Judge  was  in  a  revery.  He  probably  had  not 
heard  her. 

"  The  nation  is  going  to  the  dogs,"  he  said,  mumbling 
rather  to  himself  than  to  the  others.  "  We  shall  never 
prosper  until  the  curse  is  shaken  off,  or  wiped  out  in  blood. 
It  clogs  our  progress.  Our  merchant  marine,  of  which 
we  were  so  proud,  has  been  annihilated  by  these  continued 
disturbances.  But,  sir,"  he  cried,  hammering  his  fist 
upon  the  table  until  the  glasses  rang,  "  the  party  that  is 
to  save  us  was  born  at  Pittsburgh  last  year  on  Washing 
ton's  birthday.  The  Republican  Party,  sir." 

"  Shucks ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Carvel,  with  amusement. 
"  The  Black  Republican  Party,  made  up  of  old  fools  and 
young  Anarchists,  of  Dutchmen  and  nigger-worshippers. 
Why,  Whipple,  that  party's  a  joke.  Where's  your  leader  ?  " 

"  In  Illinois,"  .was  the  quick  response. 

"  What's  his  name  ?  " 

"Abraham  Lincoln,  sir,"  thundered  Mr.  Whipple. 
"  And  to  my  way  of  thinking  he  has  uttered  a  more  sig 
nificant  phrase  on  the  situation  than  any  of  your  Wash 
ington  statesmen.  fc  This  government^  said  he  to  a  friend 
of  mine,  c  cannot  exist  half  slave  and  half  free.' ' 

So  impressively  did  Mr.  Whipple  pronounce  these 
words  that  Mr.  Carvel  stirred  uneasily,  and  in  spite  of 
himself,  as  though  he  were  listening  to  an  oracle.  He 
recovered  instantly. 

"  He's  a  demagogue,  seeking  for  striking  phrases,  sir. 
You're  too  intelligent  a  man  to  be  taken  in  by  such  as  he." 

"  I  tell  you  he  is  not,  sir." 

"  I  know  him,  sir,"  cried  the  Colonel,  taking  down  his 
feet.  u  He's  an  obscure  lawyer.  Poor  white  trash  I 
Torn  down  poor  !  My  friend  Mr.  Richardson  of  Spring 
field  tells  me  he  is  low  down.  He  was  born  in  a  log  cabin, 
and  spends  most  of  his  time  in  a  drug-store  telling  stories 
that  you  would  not  listen  to,  Judge  Whipple." 

"  I  would  listen  to  anything  he  said,"  replied  the  Judge. 
"  Poor  white  trash,  sir  !  The  greatest  men  rise  from  the 


A   QUIET   SUNDAY   IN   LOCUST   STREET        79 

people.  A  demagogue  !  "  Mr.  Whipple  fairly  shook  with 
rage.  tfc  The  nation  doesn't  know  him  yet.  But  mark 
my  words,  the  day  will  come  when  it  will.  He  was  bal- 
lotted  for  Vice-President  in  the  Philadelphia  convention 
last  year.  Nobody  paid  any  attention  to  that.  If  the  con 
vention  had  heard  him  speak  at  Bloomington,  he  would 
have  been  nominated  instead  of  Fremont.  If  the  nation 
could  have  heard  him,  he  would  be  President  to-day  instead 
of  that  miserable  Buchanan.  I  happened  to  be  at  Bloom 
ington.  And  while  the  idiots  on  the  platform  were  drivel 
ling,  the  people  kept  calling  for  Lincoln.  I  had  never 
heard  of  him  then.  I've  never  forgot  him  since.  He 
came  ambling  out  of  the  back  of  the  hall,  a  lanky,  gawky- 
looking  man,  ridiculously  ugly,  sir.  But  the  moment  he 
opened  his  mouth  he  had  us  spellbound.  The  language 
which  your  low-down  lawyer  used  was  that  of  a  God-sent 
prophet,  sir.  He  had  those  Illinois  bumpkins  all  worked 
up,  —  the  women  crying,  and  some  of  the  men,  too.  And 
mad  !  Good  Lord,  they  were  mad  — '  We  will  say  to  the 
Southern  disunionists,'  he  cried,  —  4  we  will  say  to  the 
Southern  disunionists,  we  won't  go  out  of  the  Union,. 
and  you  shan't."1 ' 

There  was  a  silence  when  the  Judge  finished.  But  pres 
ently  Mr.  Carvel  took  a  match.  And  he  stood  over  the 
Judge  in  his  favorite  attitude,  —  with  his  feet  apart, —  as 
he  lighted  another  cigar. 

"  I  reckon  we're  going  to  have  war,  Silas,"  said  he, 
slowly;  "  but  don't  you  think  that  your  Mr.  Lincoln  scares 
me  into  that  belief.  I  don't  count  his  bluster  worth  a 
cent.  No  sirree  !  It's  this  youngster  who  comes  out  here 
from  Boston  and  buys  a  nigger  with  all  the  money  he's 
got  in  the  world.  And  if  he's  an  impetuous  young  fool, 
I'm  no  judge  of  men." 

"  Appleton  Brice  wasn't  precisely  impetuous,"  remarked 
Mr.  Whipple.  And  he  smiled  a  little  bitterly,  as  though 
the  word  had  stirred  a  memory. 

"  I  like  that  young  fellow,"  Mr.  Carvel  continued.  "It 
seems  to  be  a  kind  of  fatality  with  me  to  get  along  with 
Yankees.  I  reckon  there's  a  screw  loose  somewhere,  but 


80  THE   CRISIS 

Brice  acted  the  man  all  the  way  through.  He  got  a  fall 
out  of  you,  Silas,  in  your  room,  after  the  show.  Where  are 
you  going,  Jinny  ?  " 

Virginia  had  risen,  and  she  was  standing  very  erect, 
with  a  flush  on  her  face,  waiting  for  her  father  to  finish. 

"  To  see  Anne  Brinsmade,"  she  said.  "  Good-by,  Uncle 
Silas." 

She  had  called  him  so  from  childhood.  Hers  was  the 
one  voice  that  seemed  to  soften  him  —  it  never  failed.  He 
turned  to  her  now  with  a  movement  that  was  almost  gen 
tle.  "  Virginia,  I  should  like  you  to  know  my  young 
Yankee,"  said  he. 

"Thank  you,  Uncle  Silas,"  said  the  girl,  with  dignity, 
"  but  I  scarcely  think  that  he  would  care  to  know  me.  He 
feels  so  strongly." 

"  He  feels  no  stronger  than  I  do,"  replied  the  Judge. 

"  You  have  gotten  used  to  me  in  eighteen  years,  and 
besides,"  she  flashed,  "  you  never  spent  all  the  money  you 
had  in  the  world  for  a  principle." 

Mr.  Whipple  smiled  as  she  went  out  of  the  door. 

"  I  have  spent  pretty  near  all,"  he  said.  But  more  to 
himself  than  to  the  Colonel.  - 

That  evening,  some  young  people  came  in  to  tea,  two 
of  the  four  big  Catherwood  boys,  Anne  Brinsmade  and 
her  brother  Jack,  Puss  Russell  and  Bert,  and  Eugenie 
Renault.  But  Virginia  lost  her  temper.  In  an  evil 
moment  Puss  Russell  started  the  subject  of  the  young 
Yankee  who  had  deprived  her  of  Hester.  Puss  was 
ably  seconded  by  Jack  Brinsmade,  whose  reputation  as  a 
tormentor  extended  far  back  into  his  boyhood.  In  vain 
did  Anne,  the  peacemaker,  try  to  quench  him,  while  the 
big  Catherwoods  and  Bert  Russell  laughed  incessantly. 
No  wonder  that  Virginia  was  angry.  She  would  not 
speak  to  Puss  as  that  young  lady  bade  her  good  night. 
And  the  Colonel,  coming  home  from  an  evening  with  Mr. 
Brinsmade,  found  his  daughter  in  an  armchair,  staring 
into  the  sitting-room  fire.  There  was  no  other  light  in 
the  room.  Her  chin  was  in  her  hand,  and  her  lips  were 
pursed. 


A  QUIET   SUNDAY   IN   LOCUST   STREET        81 

"  Heigho  ! "  said  the  Colonel,  "  what's  the  trouble 
now?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Virginia. 

"  Come,"  he  insisted,  "  what  have  they  been  doing  to 
my  girl  ?  " 

"  Pa  !  " 

"  Yes,  honey." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  to  balls  all  my  life.  I  want  to  go 
to  boarding-school,  and  learn  something.  Emily  is  going 
to  Monticello  after  Christmas.  Pa,  will  you  let  me  ?  " 

Mr.  Carvel  winced.  He  put  an  arm  around  her.  He 
thought  of  his  lonely  widowerhood,  of  her  whose  place 
Virginia  had  taken. 

"  And  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  he  said,  trying  to  smile. 

"  It  will  only  be  for  a  little  while.  And  Monticello 
isn't  very  far.  Pa." 

"  Well,  well,  there  is  plenty  of  time  to  think  it  over 
between  now  and  January,"  he  said.  "  And  now  I  have 
a  little  favor  to  ask  of  you,  honey." 

"Yes?"  she  said. 

The  Colonel  took  the  other  armchair,  stretched  his  feet 
toward  the  blaze,  and  stroked  his  goatee.  He  glanced 
covertly  at  his  daughter's  profile.  Twice  he  cleared  his 
throat. 

"Jinny?" 

"  Yes,  Pa  "  (without  turning  her  head). 

"Jinny,  I  was  going  to  speak  of  this  young  Brice. 
He's  a  stranger  here,  and  he  comes  of  a  good  family,  and 
—  and  I  like  him." 

"  And  you  wish  me  to  invite  him  to  my  party,"  finished 
Virginia. 

The  Colonel  started.     "  I  reckon  you  guessed  it,"  he  said. 

Virginia  remained  immovable.  She  did  not  answer  at 
once.  Then  she  said  :  — 

"Do  you  think,  in  bidding  against  me,  that  he  behaved 
like  a  gentleman  ?  " 

The  Colonel  blundered. 

"  Lord,  Virginia,"  he  said,  "  I  thought  you  told  the 
Judge  this  afternoon  that  it  was  done  out  of  principle." 


82  THE   CRISIS 

Virginia  ignored  this.     But  she  bit  her  lip. 

"He  is  like  all  Yankees,  without  one  bit  of  considera 
tion  for  a  woman.  He  knew  I  wanted  Hester." 

"  What  makes  you  imagine  that  he  thought  of  you  at 
all,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  her  father,  mildly.  "  He  does  not 
know  you." 

This  time  the  Colonel  scored  certainly.  The  firelight 
saved  Virginia. 

"  He  overheard  our  conversation,"  she  answered. 

"  I  reckon  that  he  wasn't  worrying  much  about  us.  And 
besides,  he  was  trying  to  save  Hester  from  Jennings." 

"  I  thought  that  you  said  that  it  was  to  be  my  party, 
Pa,"  said  Virginia,  irrelevantly. 

The  Colonel  looked  thoughtful,  then  he  began  to 
laugh. 

"  Haven't  we  enough  Black  Republican  friends  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  So  you  won't  have  him  ?  "  said  the  Colonel. 

"  I  didn't  say  that  I  wouldn't  have  him,"  she  answered. 

The  Colonel  rose,  and  brushed  the  ashes  from  his 
coat. 

"  By  Gum  !  "  he  said.     "  Women  beat  me." 


CHAPTER   X 

THE   LITTLE   HOUSE 

WHEN  Stephen  attempted  to  thank  Judge  Whipple  for 
going  011  Hester's  bond,  he  merely  said,  "Tut,  tut." 

The  Judge  rose  at  six,  so  his  man  Shadrach  told  Stephen. 
He  had  his  breakfast  at  the  Planters'  House  at  seven,  read 
the  Missouri  Democrat,  and  returned  by  eight.  Sometimes 
he  would  say  good  morning  to  Stephen  and  Richter,  and 
sometimes  he  would  not.  Mr.  Whipple  was  out  a  great 
part  of  the  day,  and  he  had  many  visitors.  He  was  a  very 
busy  man.  Like  a  great  specialist  (which  he  was),  he 
would  see  only  one  person  at  a  time.  And  Stephen  soon 
discovered  that  his  employer  did  not  discriminate  between 
age  or  sex,  or  importance,  or  condition  of  servitude.  In 
short,  Stephen's  opinion  of  Judge  Whipple  altered  very 
materially  before  the  end  of  that  first  week.  He  saw  poor 
women  and  disconsolate  men  go  into  the  private  room 
ahead  of  rich  citizens,  who  seemed  content  to  wait  their 
turn  on  the  hard  wooden  chairs  against  the  wall  of  the 
main  office.  There  was  one  incident  in  particular,  when 
a  well-dressed  gentleman  of  middle  age  paced  impatiently 
for  two  mortal  hours  after  Shadrach  had  taken  his  card 
into  the  sanctum.  When  at  last  he  had  been  admitted,  Mr. 
Richter  whispered  to  Stephen  his  name.  It  wTas  that  of  a 
big  railroad  man  from  the  East.  The  transom  let  out  the 
true  state  of  affairs. 

"  See  here,  Callender,"  the  Judge  was  heard  to  say,  "you 
fellows  don't  like  me,  and  you  wouldn't  come  here  unless 
you  had  to.  But  when  your  road  gets  in  a  tight  place, 
you  turn  up  and  expect  to  walk  in  ahead  of  my  friends. 
No,  sir,  if  you  want  to  see  me,  you've  got  to  wait." 

Mr.  Callender  made  some  inaudible  reply. 

83 


84  THE   CKISIS 

"  Money !  "  roared  the  Judge,  "  take  your  money  to 
Stetson,  and  see  if  you  win  your  case." 

Mr.  Richter  smiled  at  Stephen,  as  if  in  sheer  happiness 
at  this  vindication  of  an  employer  who  had  never  seemed 
to  him  to  need  a  defence. 

Stephen  was  greatly  drawn  toward  this  young  German 
with  the  great  scar  on  his  pleasant  face.  And  he  was  itch 
ing  to  know  about  that  scar.  Every  day,  after  coming  in 
from  dinner,  Richter  lighted  a  great  brown  meerschaum, 
and  read  the  St.  Louis  Anzeiger  and  the  Westliche  Post. 
Often  he  sang  quietly  to  himself :  — 

"  Deutschlands  Sohne 
Laut  ertone 
Euer  Vaterlandgesang. 
Vaterland  !    Du  land  des  Ruhmes, 
Weih'  zu  deines  Heiligthumes 
Hutern,  uns  und  unser  Schwert." 

There  were  other  songs,  too.  And  some  wonderful 
quality  in  the  German's  voice  gave  you  a  thrill  when  you 
heard  them,  albeit  )^ou  could  not  understand  the  words. 
Richter  never  guessed  how  Stephen,  with  his  eyes  on  his 
book,  used  to  drink  in  those  airs.  And  presently  he 
found  out  that  they  were  inspired. 

The  day  that  the  railroad  man  called,  and  after  he  and 
the  Judge  had  gone  out  together,  the  ice  was  broken. 

"  You  Americans  from  the  North  are  a  queer  people, 
Mr.  Brice,"  remarked  Mr.  Richter,  as  he  put  on  his  coat. 
"  You  do  not  show  your  feelings.  You  are  ashamed.  The 
Judge,  at  first  I  could  not  comprehend  him  —  he  would 
scold  and  scold.  But  one  day  I  see  that  his  heart  is  warm, 
and  since  then  I  love  him.  Have  you  ever  eaten  a  Ger 
man  dinner,  Mr.  Brice  ?  No  ?  Then  you  must  come  \vith 
me,  now." 

It  was  raining,  the  streets  ankle-deep  in  mud,  and  the 
beer-garden  by  the  side  of  the  restaurant  to  which  they 
went  was  dreary  and  bedraggled.  But  inside  the  place 
was  warm  and  cheerful.  Inside,  to  all  intents  and  pur 
poses,  it  was  Germany.  A  most  genial  host  crossed  the 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE  85 

room  to  give  Mr.  Richter  a  welcome  that  any  man  might 
have  envied.  He  was  introduced  to  Stephen. 

"  We  were  all  strevers  together,  in  Germany,"  said 
Richter. 

"  You  were  all  what  ?  "  asked  Stephen,  interested. 

"  Strivers,  you  might  call  it  in  English.  In  the  Voter- 
land  those  who  seek  for  higher  and  better  things  —  for 
liberty,  and  to  be  rid  of  oppression  —  are  so  called.  That 
is  why  we  fought  in  '48  and  lost.  And  that  is  why  we 
came  here,  to  the  Republic.  Ach!  I  fear  I  will  never  be 
the  great  lawyer  —  but  the  striver,  yes,  always.  We  must 
fight  once  more  to  be  rid  of  the  black  monster  that  sucks 
the  blood  of  freedom  —  vampire.  Is  it  not  so  in  English  ?  " 

Stephen  was  astonished  at  this  outburst. 

"  You  think  it  will  come  to  war  ?  " 

"  I  fear,  —  yes,  I  fear,"  said  the  German,  shaking  his 
head.  "  We  fear.  We  are  already  preparing." 

"  Preparing  ?  You  would  fight,  Richter  ?  You,  a  for 
eigner?" 

"  A  foreigner !  "  cried  Richter,  with  a  flash  of  anger  in 
his  blue  eyes  that  died  as  suddenly  as  it  came,  —  died  into 
reproach.  "  Call  me  not  a  foreigner  —  we  Germans  will 
show  whether  or  not  we  are  foreigners  when  the  time  is 
ripe.  This  great  country  belongs  to  all  the  oppressed. 
Your  ancestors  founded  it,  and  fought  for  it,  that  the 
descendants  of  mine  might  find  a  haven  from  tyranny. 
My  friend,  one-half  of  this  city  is  German,  and  it  is  they 
who  will  save  it  if  danger  arises.  You  must  come  with 
me  one  night  to  South  St.  Louis,  that  you  may  know  us. 
Then  you  will  perhaps  understand,  Stephen.  You  will 
not  think  of  us  as  foreign  swill,  but  as  patriots  who 
love  our  new  Vaterland  even  as  you  love  it.  You  must 
come  to  our  Turner  Halls,  where  we  are  drilling  against 
the  time  when  the  Union  shall  have  need  of  us." 

"  You  are  drilling  now  ? "  exclaimed  Stephen,  in  still 
greater  astonishment.  The  German's  eloquence  had  made 
him  tingle,  even  as  had  the  songs. 

"  Prosit  deine  Blume  !  "  answered  Richter,  smiling  and 
holding  up  his  glass  of  beer.  "  You  will  come  to  a  com- 


86  THE   CRISIS 

merce,  and  see.  This  is  not  our  blessed  Lichtenhainer,  that 
we  drink  at  Jena.  One  may  have  a  pint  of  Lichtenhainer 
for  less  than  a  groschen  at  Jena.  Aber,"  he  added  as  he 
rose,  with  a  laugh  that  showed  his  strong  teeth,  "  we  Ameri 
cans  are  rich." 

As  Stephen's  admiration  for  his  employer  grew,  his  fear 
of  him  waxed  greater  likewise.  The  Judge's  methods  of 
teaching  law  were  certainly  not  Harvard's  methods.  For 
a  fortnight  he  paid  as  little  attention  to  the  young  man  as 
he  did  to  the  messengers  who  came  with  notes  and  cooled 
their  heels  in  the  outer  office  until  it  became  the  Judge's 
pleasure  to  answer  them.  This  was  a  trifle  discouraging 
to  Stephen.  But  he  stuck  to  his  Chitty  and  his  Greenleaf 
and  his  Kent.  It  was  Richter  who  advised  him  to  buy 
Whittlesey's  "  Missouri  Form  Book,"  and  warned  him  of 
Mr.  Whipple's  hatred  for  the  new  code.  Well  that  he 
did  !  There  came  a  fearful  hour  of  judgment.  With  the 
swiftness  of  a  hawk  Mr.  Whipple  descended  out  of  a  clear 
sky,  and  instantly  the  law  terms  began  to  rattle  in  Stephen's 
head  like  dried  peas  in  a  can.  It  was  the  Old  Style  of 
Pleading  this  time,  without  a  knowledge  of  which  the 
Judge  declared  with  vehemence  that  a  lawyer  was  not  fit 
to  put  pen  to  legal  cap. 

"  Now,  sir,  the  papers  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  First,"  said  Stephen,  "  was  the  Declaration.  The 
answer  to  that  was  the  Plea.  The  answer  to  that  was 
the  Replication.  The  answer  to  that  was  the  Rebutter. 
And  the  answer  to  that  was  the  Surrebutter.  But  they 
rarely  got  that  far,"  he  added  unwisely. 

"  A  good  principle  in  Law,  sir,"  said  the  Judge,  "  is 
not  to  volunteer  information." 

Stephen  was  somewhat  cast  down  when  he  reached 
home  that  Saturday  evening.  He  had  come  out  of  his 
examination  with  feathers  drooping.  He  had  been  given 
no  more  briefs  to  copy,  nor  had  Mr.  Whipple  vouchsafed 
even  to  send  him  on  an  errand.  He  had  not  learned  how 
common  a  thing  it  is  with  young  lawyers  to  feel  that  they 
are  of  no  use  in  the  world.  Besides,  the  rain  continued. 
This  was  the  fifth  day. 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE  87 

His  mother,  knitting  before  the  fire  in  her  own  room, 
greeted  him  with  her  usual  quiet  smile  of  welcome.  He 
tried  to  give  her  a  humorous  account  of  his  catechism  of 
the  morning,  but  failed. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  doesn't  like  me,"  said  Stephen. 

His  mother  continued  to  smile. 

44  If  he  did,  he  would  not  show  it,"  she  answered. 

"  I  can  feel  it,"  said  Stephen,  dejectedly. 

"  The  Judge  was  here  this  afternoon,"  said  his  mother. 

"What?"  cried  Stephen.  "Again  this  week?  They 
say  that  he  never  calls  in  the  daytime,  and  rarely  in  the 
evening.  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  said  that  some  of  this  Boston  nonsense  must  be 
gotten  out  of  you,"  answered  Mrs.  Brice,  laughing.  "  He 
said  that  you  were  too  stiff.  That  you  needed  to  rub 
against  the  plain  men  who  were  building  up  the  West. 
Who  were  making  a  vast  world-power  of  the  original 
little  confederation  of  thirteen  states.  And  Stephen," 
she  added  more  earnestly,  "I  am  not  sure  but  what  he 
is  right." 

Then  Stephen  laughed.  And  for  a  long  time  he  sat 
staring  into  the  fire. 

"  What  else  did  he  say  ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  while. 

"He  told  me  about  a  little  house  which  we  might  rent 
very  cheaply.  Too  cheaply,  it  seems.  The  house  is  on 
this  street,  next  door  to  Mr.  Brinsmade,  to  whom  it 
belongs.  And  Mr.  Whipple  brought  the  key,  that  we 
might  inspect  it  to-morrow." 

"  But  a  servant,"  objected  Stephen,  "  I  suppose  that  we 
must  have  a  servant." 

His  mother's  voice  fell. 

"  That  poor  girl  whom  you  freed  is  here  to  see  me  every 
day.  Old  Nancy  does  washing.  But  Hester  has  no  work, 
and  she  is  a  burden  to  Judge  Whipple.  Oh,  no,"  she  con 
tinued,  in  response  to  Stephen's  glance,  "  the  Judge  did 
not  mention  that,  but  I  think  he  had  it  in  mind  that  Hes 
ter  might  come.  And  I  am  sure  that  she  would." 

Sunday  dawned  brightly.  After  church  Mrs.  Brice 
and  Stephen  walked  down  Olive  Street,  and  stood  looking 


88  THE   CRISIS 

at  a  tiny  house  wedged  in  between  two  large  ones  with 
scrolled  fronts.  Sad  memories  of  Beacon  Street  filled 
them  both  as  they  gazed,  but  they  said  nothing  of  this  to 
each  other.  As  Stephen  put  his  hand  on  the  latch  of  the 
little  iron  gate,  a  gentleman  came  out  of  the  larger  house 
next  door.  He  was  past  the  middle  age,  somewhat  scru 
pulously  dressed  in  the  old  fashion,  in  swallowtail  coat 
and  black  stock.  Benevolence  was  in  the  generous  mouth, 
in  the  large  nose  that  looked  like  Washington's,  and  benev 
olence  fairly  sparkled  in  the  blue  eyes.  He  smiled  at 
them  as  though  he  had  known  them  always,  and  the  world 
seemed  brighter  that  very  instant.  They  smiled  in  return, 
whereupon  the  gentleman  lifted  his  hat.  And  the  kindli 
ness  and  the  courtliness  of  that  bow  made  them  very  happy. 
"  Did  you  wish  to  look  at  the  house,  madam  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Brice. 

"  Allow  me  to  open  it  for  you,"  he  said,  graciously  tak 
ing  the  key  from  her.  "  I  fear  that  you  will  find  it  incon 
venient  and  incommodious,  ma'am.  I  should  be  fortunate, 
indeed,  to  get  a  good  tenant." 

He  fitted  the  key  in  the  door,  while  Stephen  and  his 
mother  smiled  at  each  other  at  the  thought  of  the  rent. 
The  gentleman  opened  the  door,  and  stood  aside  to  let 
them  enter,  very  much  as  if  he  were  showing  them  a 
palace  for  which  he  was  the  humble  agent. 

They  went  into  the  little  parlor,  which  was  nicely  fur 
nished  in  mahogany  and  horsehair.  And  it  had  back  of 
it  a  bit  of  a  dining  room,  with  a  little  porch  overlooking 
the  back  yard.  Mrs.  Brice  thought  of  the  dark  and  stately 
high-ceiled  dining-room  she  had  known  throughout  her 
married  days  :  of  the  board  from  which  a  royal  governor 
of  Massachusetts  Colony  had  eaten,  and  some  governors 
of  the  Commonwealth  since.  Thank  God,  she  had  not  to 
sell  that,  nor  the  Brice  silver  which  had  stood  on  the  high 
sideboard  with  the  wolves  and  the  shield  upon  it.  The 
widow's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  had  not  hoped  again 
to  have  a  home  for  these  things,  nor  the  father's  armchair, 
nor  the  few  family  treasures  that  were  to  come  over  the 
mountains. 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE  89 

The  gentleman,  with  infinite  tact,  said  little,  but  led 
the  way  through  the  rooms.  There  were  not  many  of 
them.  At  the  door  of  the  kitchen  he  stopped,  and  laid 
his  hand  kindly  on  Stephen's  shoulder :  — 

"  Here  we  may  not  enter.  This  is  your  department, 
ma'am,"  said  he. 

Finally,  as  they  stood  without  waiting  for  the  gentle 
man,  who  insisted  upon  locking  the  door,  they  observed  a 
girl  in  a  ragged  shawl  hurrying  up  the  street.  As  she 
approached  them,  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  large 
house  next  door.  But  suddenly,  as  the  gentleman  turned, 
she  caught  sight  of  him,  and  from  her  lips  escaped  a  cry 
of  relief.  She  flung  open  the  gate,  and  stood  before  him. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Brirismade,"  she  cried,  "  mother  is  dying. 
You  have  done  so  much  for  us,  sir,  —  couldn't  you  come 
to  her  for  a  little  while  ?  She  thought  if  she  might  see 
you  once  more,  she  would  die  happy."  The  voice  was 
choked  by  a  sob. 

Mr.  Brinsmade  took  the  girl's  hand  in  his  own,  and 
turned  to  the  lady  with  as  little  haste,  with  as  much  polite 
ness,  as  he  had  shown  before. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  ma'am,"  he  said,  with  his  hat  in 
his  hand. 

The  widow  had  no  words  to  answer  him.  But  she 
and  her  son  watched  him  as  he  walked  rapidly  down  the 
street,  his  arm  in  the  girl's,  until  they  were  out  of  sight. 
And  then  they  walked  home  silently. 

Might  not  the  price  of  this  little  house  be  likewise  a 
I  iece  of  the  Brinsmade  charity  ? 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE    INVITATION 

MR.  ELIPHALET  HOPPER  in  his  Sunday-best  broadcloth 
was  a  marvel  of  propriety.  It  seemed  to  Stephen  that  his 
face  wore  a  graver  expression  on  Sunday  when  he  met  him 
standing  on  Miss  Crane's  doorstep,  picking  the  lint  from 
his  coat.  Stephen's  intention  was  not  to  speak.  But  he 
remembered  what  the  Judge  had  said  to  his  mother,  and 
nodded.  Why,  indeed,  should  he  piut  on  airs  with  this 
man  who  had  come  to  St.  Louis  unknown  and  unrecom- 
mended  and  poor,  who  by  sheer  industry  had  made 
himself  of  importance  in  the  large 'business  of  Carvel  & 
Company?  As  for  Stephen  Brice,  he  was  not  yet  earn 
ing  his  salt,  but  existing  by  the  charity  of  Judge  Silas 
Whipple. 

"  Howdy,  Mr.  Brice,"  said  Mr.  Hopper,  his  glance  caught 
by  the  indefinable  in  Stephen's  costume.  This  would  have 
puzzled  Mr.  Hopper's  tailor  more. 

"Very  well,  thanks." 

"  A  fine  day  after  the  rain." 

Stephen  nodded,  and  Mr.  Hopper  entered  the  house 
after  him. 

"  Be  you  asked  to  Virginia  Carvel's  party  ?  "  he  asked 
abruptly. 

"  I  do  not  know  Miss  Carvel,"  said  Stephen,  wondering 
how  well  the  other  did.  And  if  the  truth  be  told,  he  was 
a  little  annoyed  at  Mr.  Hopper's  free  use  of  her  name. 

"  That  shouldn't  make  no  difference,"  said  Eliphalet, 
with  just  a  shade  of  bitterness  in  his  tone.  "  They  keep 
open  house,  like  all  Southerners,  — "  Mr.  Hopper  hesi 
tated,  —  "  for  such  as  come  well  recommended.  I  'most 
forgot,"  said  he.  "  I  callate  you're  not  any  too  well 

90 


.     THE   INVITATION  91 

recommended.  I  'most  forgot  that  little  transaction  down 
to  the  Court  House.  They  do  say  that  she  wanted  that 
gal  almighty  bad,  —  she  was  most  awful  cut  up  not  to  get 
her.  Served  her  right,  though.  I'm  glad  you  did.  Show 
her  she  can't  have  everything  her  own  way.  And  say," 
he  added,  with  laughter,  "  how  you  did  fix  that  there  stuck- 
up  Colfax  boy  !  Hell  never  forgive  you  no  more  than 
she.  But,"  said  Mr.  Hopper,  meditatively,  "it  was  a 
durned-fool  trick." 

I  think  Stephen's  critics  will  admit  that  he  had  a  good 
right  to  be  angry,  and  tjiat  they  will  admire  him  just  a 
little  bit  because  he  kept  his  temper.  But  Mr.  Hopper 
evidently  thought  he  had  gone  too  far. 

"  She  ain't  got  no  use  for  me,  neither,"  he  said. 

"  She  shows  poor  judgment,"  answered  Stephen. 

"  She's  not  long  sighted,  that's  sure,"  replied  Eliphalet, 
with  emphasis. 

At  dinner  Stephen  was  tried  still  further.  And  it  was 
then  he  made  the  determination  to  write  for  the  news 
papers  in  order  to  pay  the  rent  on  Mr.  Brinsmade's  house. 
Miss  Carvel's  coming-out  party  was  the  chief  topic. 

"  They  do  say  the  Colonel  is  to  spend  a  sight  of  money 
on  that  ball,"  said  Mrs.  Abner  Reed.  "  I  guess  it  won't 
bankrupt  him."  And  she  looked  hard  at  Mr.  Hopper. 

"  I  callate  he  ain't  pushed  for  money,"  that  gentleman 
vouchsafed. 

"  He's  a  good  man,  and  done  well  by  you,  Mr.  Hopper." 

"So-so,"  answered  Eliphalet.  "But  I  will  say  that  I 
done  something  for  the  Colonel.  I've  saved  him  a  hundred 
times  my  pay  since  I  showed  old  Hood  the  leaks.  And  I 
got  a  thousand  dollar  order  from  Wright  &  Company 
this  week  for  him." 

"  I  dare  say  you'd  keep  a  tight  hand  enough  on  ex 
penses,"  said  Miss  Crane,  half  in  sarcasm,  half  in 
approval. 

"  If  Colonel  Carvel  was  doin'  business  in  New  Eng 
land,"  said  Eliphalet,  "he'd  been  bankrupt  long  ago." 

"That  young  Clarence  Colfax,"  Mrs.  Abner  Reed  broke 
in,  "  he'll  get  a  right  smart  mint  o'  money  when  he  mar- 


92  THE   CEISIS 

ries  Virginia.  They  do  say  her  mother  left  her  indepen 
dent.  How  how,  Mr.  Hopper  ?  " 

Eliphalet  looked  mysterious  and  knowing.  He  did 
not  reply. 

"And  young  Colfax  ain't  precisely  a  pauper,"  said 
Miss  Crane. 

"  I'll  risk  a  good  deal  that  she  don't  marry  Colfax," 
said  Mr.  Hopper. 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ? "  cried  Mrs.  Abner. 
"  It  ain't  broke  off  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  it  ain't  broke  off.  But  I  callate 
she  won't  have  him  when  the  time,  comes.  She's  got  too 
much  sense." 

Heavy  at  heart,  Stephen  climbed  the  stairs,  thanking 
heaven  that  he  had  not  been  drawn  into  the  controversy. 
A  partial  comprehension  of  Mr.  Hopper  was  dawning  upon 
him  He  suspected  that  gentleman  of  an  aggressive 
dete  mination  to  achieve  wealth,  and  the  power  which 
goes  with  it,  for  the  purpose  of  using  that  power  upon 
those  beneath  him.  Nay,  when  he  thought  over  his  con 
versation,  he  suspected  him  of  more,  —  of  the  intention  to 
marry  Virginia  Carvel. 

It  will  be  seen  whether  Stephen  was  right  or  wrong. 

He  took  a  walk  that  afternoon,  as  far  out  as  a  place 
called  Lindell's  Grove,  which  afterward  became  historic. 
And  when  he  returned  to  the  house,  his  mother  handed  him 
a  little  white  envelope. 

"  It  came  while  you  were  out,"  she  said. 

He  turned  it  over,  and  stared  at  his  name  written  across 
the  front  in  a  feminine  hand.  In  those  days  young  ladies 
did  not  write  in  the  bold  and  masculine  manner  now 
deemed  proper.  Stephen  stared  at  the  note,  manlike,  and 
pondered. 

"  Who  brought  it,  mother  ?  " 

"  Why  don't  you  open  it,  and  see  ?"  asked  his  mother, 
with  a  smile. 

He  took  the  suggestion.  What  a  funny,  formal  little 
note  we  should  think  it  now  !  It  was  not  funny  to 
Stephen — then.  He  read  it,  and  he  read  it  again,  and 


THE   INVITATION  93 

finally  he  walked  over  to  the  window,  still  holding  it  in  his 
hand. 

Some  mothers  would  have  shown  their  curiosity.  Mrs. 
Brice  did  not,  wherein  she  proved  herself  their  superiors 
in  the  knowledge  of  mankind. 

Stephen  stood  for  a  long  while  looking  out  into  the 
gathering  dusk.  Then  he  went  over  to  the  fireplace  and 
began  tearing  the  note  into  little  bits.  Only  once  did  he 
pause,  to  look  again  at  his  name  on  the  envelope. 

"  It  is  an  invitation  to  Miss  Carvel's  party,"  he  said. 

By  Thursday  of  that  week  the  Brices,  with  thanksgiv 
ing  in  their  hearts,  had  taken  possession  of  Mr.  Brins- 
made's  little  house. 


CHAPTER   XII 


THE  years  have  sped  indeed  since  that  gray  December 
day  when  Miss  Virginia  Carvel  became  eighteen.  Old 
St.  Louis  has  changed  from  a  pleasant  Southern  town  to  a 
bustling  city,  and  a  high  building  stands  on  the  site  of 
that  wide  and  hospitable  home  of  Colonel  Carvel.  And 
the  Colonel's  thoughts  that  morning,  as  Ned  shaved  him, 
flew  back  through  the  years  to  a  gently  rolling  Kentucky 
countryside,  and  a  pillared  white  house  among  the  oaks. 
He  was  riding  again  with  Beatrice  Colfax  in  the  spring 
time.  Again  he  stretched  out  his  arm  as  if  to  seize  her 
bridle-hand,  and  he  felt  the  thoroughbred  rear.  Then  the 
vision  faded,  and  the  memory  of  his  dead  wife  became  an 
angel's  face,  far  —  so  far  away. 

He  had  brought  her  to  St.  Louis,  and  with  his  inheri 
tance  had  founded  his  business,  and  built  the  great  double 
house  on  the  corner.  The  child  came,  and  was  named 
after  the  noble  state  which  had  given  so  many  of  her  sons 
to  the  service  of  the  Republic. 

Five  simple,  happy  years  —  then  war.  A  black  war  of 
conquest  which,  like  many  such,  was  to  add  to  the  nation's 
fame  and  greatness.  Glory  beckoned,  honor  called  —  or 
Corny n  Carvel  felt  them.  With  nothing  of  the  profession 
of  arms  save  that  born  in  the  Carvels,  he  kissed  Beatrice 
farewell  and  steamed  down  the  Mississippi,  a  captain  in 
a  Missouri  regiment.  The  young  wife  was  ailing.  An 
guish  killed  her.  Had  Comyn  Carvel  been  selfish  ? 

Ned,  as  he  shaved  his  master's  face,  read  his  thoughts 
by  the  strange  sympathy  of  love.  He  had  heard  the  last 
pitiful  words  of  his  mistress.  Had  listened,  choking,  to 
Dr.  Posthlewaite  as  he  read  the  sublime  service  of  the 

94 


"MISS   JINNY"  95 

burial  of  the  dead.  It  was  Ned  who  had  met  his  master, 
the  Colonel,  at  the  levee,  and  had  fallen  sobbing  at  his 
feet. 

Long  after  he  was  shaved  that  morning,  the  Colonel  sat 
rapt  in  his  chair,  while  the  faithful  servant  busied  him 
self  about  the  room,  one  eye  on  his  master  the  while. 
But  presently  Mr.  Carvel's  re  very  is  broken  by  the  swift 
rustle  of  a  dress,  and  a  girlish  figure  flutters  in  and  plants 
itself  on  the  wide  arm  of  his  mahogany  barber  chair, 
Mammy  Easter  in  the  door  behind  her.  And  the  Colo 
nel,  stretching  forth  his  hands,  strains  her  to  him,  and 
then  holds  her  away  that  he  may  look  and  look  again 
into  her  face. 

"  Honey,"  he  said,  "  I  was  thinking  of  your  mother." 

Virginia  raised  her  eyes  to  the  painting  on  the  wall 
over  the  marble  mantel.  The  face  under  the  heavy  coils, 
of  brown  hair  was  sweet  and  gentle,  delicately  feminine. 
It  had  an  expression  of  sorrow  that  seemed  a  prophecy. 

The  Colonel's  hand  strayed  upward  to  Virginia's  head. 

"You  are  not  like  her,  honey,"  he  said.  "You  may 
see  for  yourself.  You  are  more  like  your  Aunt  Bess, 
who  lived  in  Baltimore,  and  she  —  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Virginia,  "  she  was  the  image  of  the 
beauty,  Dorothy  Manners,  who  married  my  great-grand 
father." 

"  Yes,  Jinny,"  replied  the  Colonel,  smiling.  "  That  is- 
so.  You  are  somewhat  like  your  great-grandmother." 

"  Somewhat !  "  cried  Virginia,  putting  her  hand  over 
his  mouth,  "  I  like  that.  You  and  Captain  Lige  are 
always  afraid  of  turning  my  head.  I  need  not  be  a 
beauty  to  resemble  her.  I  know  that  I  am  like  her.  When 
you  took  me  on  to  Calvert  House  to  see  Uncle  Daniel 
that  time,  I  remember  the  picture  by,  by  —  " 

"Sir  Joshua  Reynolds." 

"  Yes,  Sir  Joshua." 

"  You  were  only  eleven,"  says  the  Colonel. 

"  She  is  not  a  difficult  person  to  remember." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Carvel,  laughing,  "  especially  if  you 
have  lived  with  her." 


96  THE   CRISIS 

"  Not  that  I  wish  to  be  that  kind,"  said  Virginia,  medi 
tatively, —  "to  take  London  by  storm,  and  keep  a  man 
dangling  for  years." 

"  But  he  got  her  in  the  end,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  Where 
did  you  hear  all  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Uncle  Daniel  told  me.    He  has  Richard  Carvel's  diary." 

"  And  a  very  honorable  record  it  is,"  exclaimed  the 
Colonel.  "  Jinny,  we  shall  read  it  together  when  we  go 
a-visiting  to  Calvert  House.  I  remember  the  old  gentle 
man  as  well  as  if  I  had  seen  him  yesterday." 

Virginia  appeared  thoughtful. 

"  Pa,"  she  began,  "  Pa,  did  you  ever  see  the  pearls 
Dorothy  Carvel  wore  on  her  wedding  day  ?  What  makes 
you  jump  like  that  ?  Did  you  ever  see  them  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I  did,"  replied  the  Colonel,  gazing  at 
her  steadfastly. 

"  Pa,  Uncle  Daniel  told  me  that  I  was  to  have  that 
necklace  when  I  was  old  enough." 

"  Law  !  "  said  the  Colonel,  fidgeting,  "  your  Uncle 
Daniel  was  just  fooling  you." 

"He's  a  bachelor,"  said  Virginia;  "what  use  has  he  got 
for  it?" 

"Why,"  says  the  Colonel,  "he's  a  young  man  yet,  your 
uncle,  only  fifty-three.  I've  known  older  fools  than  he  to 
go  and  do  it.  Eh,  Ned?" 

"  Yes,  marsa.  Yes,  suh.  I've  seed  'em  at  seventy,  an' 
shufflin'  about  peart  as  Marse  Clarence's  gamecocks.  Why, 
dar  was  old  Marse  Ludlow  — 

"  Now,  Mister  Johnson,"  Virginia  put  in  severely,  "  no 
more  about  old  Ludlow." 

Ned  grinned  from  ear  to  ear,  and  in  the  ecstasy  of  his 
delight  dropped  the  Colonel's  clothes-brush.  "  Lan' 
sakes  !  "  he  cried,  "  ef  she  ain't  recommembered."  Recov 
ering  his  gravity  and  the  brush  simultaneously,  he  made 
Virginia  a  low  bow.  "  Mornin',  Miss  Jinny.  I  sholy  is 
gwinter  s'lute  you  dis  day.  May  de  good  Lawd  make 
you  happy,  Miss  Jinny,  an'  give  you  a  good  husban'  - 

"  Thank  you,  Mister  Johnson,  thank  you,"  said  Vir 
ginia,  blushing. 


*"  HE'S  A  BACHELOR,'  SAID  VIRGINIA  J    'WHAT  USE  HAS  HE  GOT  FOR  IT  ? 


"MISS   JINNY"  97 

"  How  come  she  recommembered,  Marse  Comyn  ?  Dat's 
de  quality.  Dat's  why.  Doan't  you  talk  to  Ned  'bout 
de  quality,  Marsa." 

"  And  when  did  I  ever  talk  to  you  about  the  quality, 
you  scalawag  ?  "  asks  the  Colonel,  laughing. 

"  Th'  ain't  none  'cept  de  bes'  quality  keep  they  word 
dat-a-way,"  said  Ned,  as  he  went  off  to  tell  Uncle  Ben  in 
the  kitchen. 

Was  there  ever,  in  all  this  wide  country,  a  good  cook 
who  was  not  a  tyrant?  Uncle  Ben  Carvel  was  a  veritable 
emperor  in  his  own  domain  ;  and  the  Colonel  himself,  had 
he  desired  to  enter  the  kitchen,  would  have  been  obliged 
to  come  with  humble  and  submissive  spirit.  As  for  Vir 
ginia,  she  had  had  since  childhood  more  than  one  passage 
at  arms  with  Uncle  Ben.  And  the  question  of  who  had 
come  off  victorious  had  been  the  subject  of  many  a  debate 
below  stairs. 

Tbsre  were  a  few  days  in  the  year,  however,  when 
Uncle  Ben  permitted  the  sanctity  of  his  territory  to  be 
violated.  One  was  the  seventh  of  December.  On  such  a 
day  it  was  his  habit  to  retire  to  the  broken  chair  beside  the 
sink  (the  chair  to  which  he  had  clung  for  five-and-twenty 
years).  There  he  would  sit,  blinking,  and  carrying  on 
the  while  an  undercurrent  of  protests  and  rumblings, 
while  Miss  Virginia  and  other  young  ladies  mixed  and 
chopped  and  boiled  and  baked  and  gossiped.  But 
woe  to  the  unfortunate  Rosetta  if  she  overstepped  the 
bounds  of  respect  I  Woe  to  Ned  or  Jackson  or  Tato,  if 
they  came  an  inch  over  the  threshold  from  the  hall 
beyond  !  Even  Aunt  Easter  stepped  gingerly,  though  she 
was  wont  to  affirm,  when  assisting  Miss  Jinny  in  her  toilet, 
an  absolute  contempt  for  Ben's  commands. 

44  So  Ben  ordered  you  out,  Mammy?"  Virginia  would 
say  mischievously. 

"  Order  me  out !  Hugh  !  think  I'se  skeered  o'  him, 
honey  ?  Reckon  I'd  frail  'em  good  ef  he  cotched  hole  of 
me  with  his  black  hands.  Jes'  let  him  try  to  come  up 
stairs  once,  honey,  an'  see  whajb  I  say  to'm." 

Nevertheless    Ben    had,    on    one    never-to-be-forgotten 


98  THE  CRISIS 

occasion,  ordered  Mammy  Easter  out,  and  she  had  gone. 
And  now,  as  she  was  working  the  beat  biscuits  to  be 
baked  that  evening,  Uncle  Ben's  eye  rested  on  her  with 
suspicion. 

What  mere  man  may  write  with  any  confidence  of  the 
delicacies  which  were  prepared  in  Uncle's  kitchen  that 
morning  ?  No  need  in  those  days  of  cooking  schools. 
What  Southern  lady,  to  the  manner  born,  is  not  a  cook 
from  the  cradle  ?  Even  Ben  noted  with  approval  Miss 
Virginia's  scorn  for  pecks  and  pints,  and  grunted  with 
satisfaction  over  the  accurate  pinches  of  spices  and  flavors 
which  she  used.  And  he  did  Miss  Eugenie  the  honor  to 
eat  one  of  her  praleens. 

That  night  came  Captain  Lige  Brent,  the  figure  of  an 
eager  and  determined  man  swinging  up  the  street,  and 
pulling  out  his  watch  under  every  lamp-post.  And  in 
his  haste,  in  the  darkness  of  a  mid-block,  he  ran  into 
another  solid  body  clad  in  high  boots  and  an  old  army 
overcoat,  beside  a  wood  wagon. 

"  Howdy,  Captain,"  said  he  of  the  high  boots. 

"  Well,  I  just  thought  as  much,"  was  the  energetic 
reply  ;  "  minute  I  seen  the  rig  I  knew  Captain  Grant  was 
behind  it." 

He  held  out  a  big  hand,  which  Captain  Grant  clasped, 
just  looking  at  his  own  with  a  smile.  The  stranger  was 
Captain  Elijah  Brent  of  the  Louisiana. 

"Now,"  said  Brent,  "  I'll  just  bet  a  full  cargo  that 
you're  off  to  the  Planters'  House,  and  smoke  an  El  Sol 
with  the  boys." 

Mr.  Grant  nodded.      "You're  keen,  Captain,"  said  he. 

"I've  got  something  here  that'll  outlast  an  El  Sol  a 
whole  day"  continued  Captain  Brent,  tugging  at  his 
pocket  and  pulling  out  a  six-inch  cigar  as  black  as  the 
night.  "Just  you  try  that." 

The  Captain  instantly  struck  a  match  on  his  boot  and 
was  puffing  in  a  silent  enjoyment  which  delighted  his 
friend. 

"  Reckon  lie  don't  bring  out  cigars  when  you  make  him 


"MISS   JINNY7'  99 

a  call,"  said  the  steamboat  captain,  jerking  his  thumb  up 
at  the  house.  It  was  Mr.  Jacob  Cluyme's. 

Captain  Grant  did  not  reply  to  that,  nor  did  Captain 
Lige  expect  him  to,  as  it  was  the  custom  of  this  strange 
and  silent  man  to  speak  ill  of  no  one.  He  turned  rather 
to  put  the  stakes  back  into  his  wagon. 

"  Where  are  you  off  to,  Lige  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Lord  bless  my  soul,"  said  Captain  Lige,  "to  think 
that  I  could  forget  /"  He  tucked  a  bundle  tighter  under 
his  arm.  "  Grant,  did  you  ever  see  my  little  sweetheart, 
Jinny  Carvel  ?  "  The  Captain  sighed.  "  She  ain't  little 
any  more,  and  she  eighteen  to-day." 

Captain  Grant  clapped  his  hand  to  his  forehead. 

"  Say,  Lige,"  said  he,  "  that  reminds  me.  A  month  or 
so  ago  I  pulled  a  fellow  out  of  Renault's  area  across  from 
there.  First  I  thought  he  was  a  thief.  After  he  got 
away  I  saw  the  Colonel  and  his  daughter  in  the  win 
dow— " 

Instantly  Captain  Lige  became  excited,  and  seized 
Captain  Grant  by  the  cape  of  his  overcoat. 

"  Say,  Grant,  what  kind  of  appearing  fellow  was  he  ?  " 

"Short,  thick-set,  blocky  face." 

"  I  reckon  I  know,"  said  Brent,  bringing  down  his  fist 
on  the  wagon  board  ;  "  I've  had  my  eye  on  him  for  some 
little  time." 

He  walked  around  the  block  twice  after  Captain  Grant 
had  driven  down  the  muddy  street,  before  he  composed 
himself  to  enter  the  Carvel  mansion.  He  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  the  salutations  of  Jackson,  the  butler,  who  saw  him 
coming  and  opened  the  door,  but  climbed  the  stairs  to  the 
sitting-room. 

"  Why,  Captain  Lige,  you  must  have  put  wings  on  the 
Louisiana,"  said  Virginia,  rising  joyfully  from  the  arm  of 
her  father's  chair  to  meet  him.  "  We  had  given  you  up." 

"What?  "cried  the  Captain.  "Give  me  up?  Don't 
you  know  better  than  that?  What,  give  me  up  when  I 
never  missed  a  birthday,  — •-  and  this  the  best  of  all  of  'em  ? 
If  your  pa  had  got  sight  of  me  shoviii'  in  wood  and 
cussin'  the  pilot  for  slowin'  at  the  crossin's,  he'd  never  let 


100  THE   CRISIS 

you  ride  in  my  boat  again.  Bill  Jenks  said  :  '  Are  you 
plum  crazy,  Brent  ?  Look  at  them  cressets. '  '  Five 
dollars !  '  says  I  ;  4 1  wouldn't  go  in  for  five  hundred. 
To-morrow's  Jinny  Carvel's  birthday,  and  I've  just  got  to 
be  there.'  I  reckon  the  time's  come  when  I've  got  to  say 
Miss  Jinny,"  he  added  ruefully. 

The  Colonel  rose,  laughing,  and  hit  the  Captain  on  the 
back. 

"  Drat  you,  Lige,  why  don't  you  kiss  the  girl  ?  Can't 
you  see  she's  waiting?" 

The  honest  Captain  stole  one  glance  at  Virginia,  and 
turned  red  copper  color. 

"  Shucks,  Colonel,  I  can't  be  kissing  her  always. 
What'll  her  husband  say  ?  " 

For  an  instant  Mr.  Carvel's  brow  clouded. 

"  We'll  not  talk  of  husbands  yet  awhile,  Lige." 

Virginia  went  up  to  Captain  Lige,  deftly  twisted  into 
shape  his  black  tie,  and  kissed  him  on  the  cheek.  How 
his  face  burned  when  she  touched  him. 

"  There  !  "  said  she,  "  and  don't  you  ever  dare  to  treat 
me  as  a  young  lady.  Why,  Pa,  he's  blushing  like  a  girl. 
I  know.  He's  ashamed  to  kiss  me  now.  He's  going  to 
be  married  at  last  to  that  Creole  girl  in  New  Orleans." 

The  Colonel  slapped  his  knee,  winked  slyly  at  Lige, 
while  Virginia  began  to  sing  :  — 

"  I  built  me  a  house  on  the  mountain  so  high, 
To  gaze  at  my  true  love  as  she  do  go  by." 

"  There's  only  one  I'd  ever  marry,  Jinny,"  protested 
the  Captain,  soberly,  "and  I'm  a  heap  too  old  for  her. 
But  I've  seen  a  youngster  that  might  mate  with  her, 
Colonel,"  he  added  mischievously.  u  If  he  just  wasn't  a 
Yankee.  Jinny,  what's  the  story  I  hear  about  Judge 
Whipple's  young  man  buying  Hester  ? " 

Mr.  Carvel  looked  uneasy.  It  was  Virginia's  turn  to 
blush,  and  she  grew  red  as  a  peony. 

"  He's  a  tall,  hateful,  Black  Republican  Yankee  !  "  she 
said. 


"MISS   JINNY"  101 

"  Phee-ew  !  "  whistled  the  Captain.  "  Any  more  epi 
thets  ?  " 

"  He's  a  nasty  Abolitionist  !  " 

"  There  you  do  him  wrong,  honey,"  the  Colonel  put 
in. 

"  I  hear  he  took  Hester  to  Miss  Crane's,"  the  Captain 
continued,  filling  the  room  with  his  hearty  laughter. 
"  That  boy  has  sand  enough,  Jinny  ;  I'd  like  to  know 
him." 

"  You'll  have  that  priceless  opportunity  to-night,"  re 
torted  Miss  Virginia,  as  she  flung  herself  out  of  the  room. 
"  Pa  has  made  me  invite  him  to  my  party." 

"  Here,  Jinny  !  Hold  on  !  "  cried  the  Captain,  running 
after  her.  "  I've  got  something  for  you." 

She  stopped  on  the  stairs,  hesitating.  Whereupon  the 
Captain  hastily  ripped  open  the  bundle  under  his  arm  and 
produced  a  very  handsome  India  shawl.  With  a  cry  of 
delight  Virginia  threw  it  over  her  shoulders  and  ran  to 
the  long  glass  between  the  high  windows. 

"  Who  spoils  her,  Lige  ?  "  asked  the  Colonel,  fondly. 

"  Her  father,  I  reckon,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  Who  spoils  you,  Jinny  ?  " 

"  Captain  Lige,"  said  she,  turning  to  him.  "  If  you 
had  only  kept  the  presents  you  .have  brought  me  from 
New  Orleans,  you  might  sell  out  your  steamboat  and  be  a 
rich  man." 

"  He  is  a  rich  man,"  said  the  Colonel,  promptly.  "  Did 
you  ever  miss  bringing  her  a  present,  Lige  ?  "  he  asked. 

"When  the  Cora  Anderson  burnt,"  answered  the  Captain. 

"  Why,"  cried  Virginia,  "  you  brought  me  a  piece  of  her 
wheel,  with  the  char  on  it.  You  swam  ashore  with  it." 

"  So  I  did,"  said  Captain  Brent.  "  I  had  forgotten 
that.  It  was  when  the  French  dress,  with  the  furbelows, 
which  Madame  Pitou  had  gotten  me  from  Paris  for  you, 
was  lost." 

"  And  I  think  I  liked  the  piece  of  wheel  better,"  says 
Virginia.  "It  was  brought  me  by  a  brave  man,  the  last 
to  leave  his  boat." 

"  And  who  should  be  the  last  to  leave,  but  the  captain  ? 


102  THE   CRISIS 

I  saw  the  thing  in  the  water,  and  I  just  thought  we  ought 
to  have  a  relic." 

"  Lige,"  said  the  Colonel,  putting  up  his  feet,  "  do  you 
remember  the  French  toys  you  used  to  bring  up  here 
from  New  Orleans  ?  " 

"Colonel,"  replied  Brent,  "do  you  recall  the  rough  and 
uncouth  young  citizen  who  came  over  here  from  Cin 
cinnati,  as  clerk  on  the  Vicksburg?" 

"  I  remember,  sir,  that  he  was  so  promising  that  they 
made  him  provisional  captain  the  next  trip,  and  he  was 
not  yet  twenty-four  years  of  age." 

"  And  do  you  remember  buying  the  Vicksburg  at  the 
sheriff's  sale  for  twenty  thousand  dollars,  and  handing  her 
over  to  young  Brent,  and  saying,  'There,  my  son,  she's 
your  boat,  and  you  can  pay  for  her  when  you  like '  ?  " 

"  Shucks,  Brent !  "  said  Mr.  Carvel,  sternly,  "  your 
memory's  too  good.  But  I  proved  myself  a  good  business 
man,  Jinny ;  he  paid  for  her  in  a  year." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  you  made  him  pay  you  for  the 
boat  ? "  cried  Jinny.  "  Why,  Pa,  I  didn't  think  you 
were  that  mean  !  " 

The  two  men  laughed  heartily. 

"  I  was  a  heap  meaner,"  said  her  father.  "  I  made  him 
pay  interest." 

Virginia  drew  in  her  breath,  and  looked  at  the  Colonel 
in  amazement. 

"  He's  the  meanest  man  I  know"  said  Captain  Lige. 
"  He  made  me  pay  interest,  and  a  mint  julep," 

"  Upon  my  word,  Pa,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  soberly,  "  I 
shouldn't  have  believed  it  of  you." 

Just  then  Jackson,  in  his  white  jacket,  came  to  announce 
that  supper  was  ready,  and  they  met  Ned  at  the  dining- 
room  door,  fairly  staggering  under  a  load  of  roses. 

"  Marse  Clarence  done  send  'em  in,  des  picked  out'n  de 
hothouse  dis  afternoon,  Miss  Jinny.  Jackson,  fotch  a 
bowl  !  " 

"  No,"  said  Virginia.  She  took  the  flowers  from  Ned, 
one  by  one,  and  to  the  wonderment  of  Captain  Lige  and 
her  father  strewed  them  hither  and  thither  upon  the  table 


"MISS   JINNY"  103 

until  the  white  cloth  was  hid  by  the  red  flowers.  The 
Colonel  stroked  his  goatee  and  nudged  Captain  Lige. 

"  Look-a-there,  now,"  said  he.  "  Any  other  woman 
would  have  spent  two  mortal  hours  stickin'  'em  in  china." 

Virginia,  having  critically  surveyed  her  work,  amid 
exclamations  from  Ned  and  Jackson,  had  gone  around  to 
her  place.  And  there  upon  her  plate  lay  a  pearl  necklace. 
For  an  instant  she  clapped  her  palms  together,  staring  at 
it  in  bewilderment.  And  once  more  the  little  childish  cry 
of  delight,  long  sweet  to  the  Colonel's  ears,  escaped  her. 

"Pa,"  she  said,  "is  it — ?"  And  there  she  stopped, 
for  fear  that  it  might  not  be.  But  he  nodded  encourag 
ingly. 

"  Dorothy  Carvel's  necklace  !     No,  it  can't  be." 

"  Yes,  honey,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  Your  Uncle  Daniel 
sent  it,  as  he  promised.  And  when  you  go  upstairs,  if 
Easter  has  done  as  I  told  her,  you  will  see  a  primrose 
dress  with  blue  corn-flowers  on  your  bed.  Daniel  thought 
you  might  like  that,  too,  for  a  keepsake.  Dorothy  Manners 
wore  it  in  London,  when  she  was  a  girl." 

And  so  Virginia  ran  and  threw  her  arms  about  her 
father's  neck,  and  kissed  him  again  and  again.  And  lest 
the  Captain  feel  badly,  she  laid  his  India  shawl  beside  her, 
and  the  necklace  upon  it. 

What  a  joyful  supper  they  had,  —  just  the  three  of 
them  !  And  as  the  fresh  roses  filled  the  room  with  fra 
grance,  Virginia  filled  it  with  youth  and  spirits,  and  Mr. 
Carvel  and  the  Captain  with  honest,  manly  merriment. 
And  Jackson  plied  Captain  Brent  (who  was  a  prime 
favorite  in  that  house)  with  broiled  chicken  and  hot  beat 
biscuits  and  with  waffles,  until  at  length  he  lay  back  in  his 
chair  and  heaved  a  sigh  of  content,  lighting  a  cigar.  And 
then  Virginia,  with  a  little  curtsey  to  both  of  them,  ran  oft 
to  dress  for  the  party. 

"  Well,"  said  Captain  Brent,  "  I  reckon  there'll  be  gay 
goings-on  here  to-night.  I  wouldn't  miss  the  sight  of 
'em,  Colonel,  for  all  the  cargoes  on  the  Mississippi.  Ain't 
there  anything  I  can  do  ?  " 

"No,   thank   you,  Lige,"  Mr.  Carvel   answered.     "Do 


104  THE   CRISIS 

you  remember,  one  morning  some  five  years  ago,  when 
I  took  in  at  the  store  a  Yankee  named  Hopper?  You 
didn't  like  him,  I  believe." 

Captain  Brent  jumped,  and  the  ashes  of  his  cigar  fell 
on  his  coat.  He  had  forgotten  his  conversation  with 
Captain  Grant. 

"  I  reckon  I  do,"  he  said  dryly. 

For  a  moment  he  was  on  the  point  of  telling  the  affair. 
Then  he  desisted.  He  could  not  be  sure  of  Eliphalet  from 
Grant's  description.  So  he  decided  to  await  a  better  time. 
Captain  Brent  was  one  to  make  sure  of  his  channel  before 
going  ahead. 

"Well,"  continued  the  Colonel,  "I  have  been  rather 
pushed  the  last  week,  and  Hopper  managed  things  for 
this  dance.  He  got  the  music,  and  saw  the  confectioner. 
But  he  made  such  a  close  bargain  with  both  of  'em  that 
they  came  around  to  me  afterward,"  he  added,  laughing. 

"  Is  he  coming  here  to-night  ?  "  demanded  the  Captain, 
looking  disgusted. 

"  Lige,"  replied  the  Colonel,  "  you  never  do  get  over 
a  prejudice.  Yes,  he's  coming,  just  to  oversee  things. 
He  seems  to  have  mighty  little  pleasure,  and  he's  got  the 
best  business  head  I  ever  did  see.  A  Yankee,"  said 
Mr.  Carvel,  meditatively,  as  he  put  on  his  hat,  "  a  Yankee, 
when  he  will  work,  works  like  all  possessed.  Hood  don't 
like  him  any  more  than  you  do,  but  he  allows  Hopper  is 
a  natural-born  business  man.  Last  month  Samuels  got 
tight,  and  Wright  &  Company  were  going  to  place  the 
largest  order  in  years.  I  called  in  Hood.  'Go  yourself, 
Colonel,'  says  he.  4  I'm  too  old  to  solicit  business,  Hood,' 
said  I.  'Then  there's  only  one  man  to  send,'  says  he; 
4  young  Hopper.  He'll  get  the  order,  or  I'll  give  up  this 
place  I've  had  for  twenty  years.'  Hopper  4  callated '  to. 
get  it,  and  another  small  one  pitched  in.  And  you'd  die 
laughing,  Lige,  to  hear  how  he  did  it." 

u  Some  slickness,  I'll  gamble,"  grunted  Captain  Lige. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  'twas  slick,"  said  the  Colonel,  thought 
fully.  "  You  know  old  man  Wright  hates  a  solicitor  like 
poison.  He  has  his  notions.  And  maybe  you've  noticed 


"MISS   JINNY"  105 

signs  stuck  up  all  over  his  store, '  No  Solicitors  nor  Travel 
ling  Men  Allowed  Here  !  ' 

The  Captain  nodded. 

"But  Hopper  —  Hopper  walks  in,  sir,  bold  as  you 
please,  right  past  the  signs  till  he  comes  to  the  old  man's 
cage.  4 1  want  to  see  Mr.  Wright,'  says  he  to  the  clerk. 
And  the  clerk  begins  to  grin.  4  Name,  please,'  says  he. 
Mr.  Hopper  whips  out  his  business  card.  4  What ! '  shouts 
old  Wright,  flying  'round  in  his  chair,  4  what  the  devil 
does  this  mean?  Can't  you  read,  sir?'  'I  callate  to,' 
says  Mr.  Hopper.  'And  you  dare  to  come  in  here?' 
4  Business  is  business,'  says  Hopper.  4You  "callate"!' 
bellowed  the  old  man;  '  I  reckon  you're  a  damned  Yankee. 
I  reckon  I'll  upset  your  "  callations "  for  once.  And  if 
I  catch  you  in  here  again,  I'll  wring  your  neck  like  a 
roostah's.  Git ! ' ; 

"  Who  told  you  this  ?  "  asked  Captain  Brent. 

"Wright  himself,  —  afterward,"  replied  Mr.  Carvel, 
laughing.  "  But  listen,  Lige.  The  old  man  lives  at  the 
Planters'  House,  you  know.  What  does  Mr.  Hopper  do 
but  go  'round  there  that  very  night  and  give  a  nigger  two 
bits  to  put  him  at  the  old  man's  table.  When  Wright 
comes  and  sees  him,  he  nearly  has  one  of  his  apoplectic  fits. 
But  in  marches  Hopper  the  next  morning  with  twice  the 
order.  The  good  Lord  knows  how  he  did  it." 

There  was  a  silence.     Then  the  door-bell  rang. 
"  He's    dangerous"    said    the    Captain,     emphatically. 
"That's  what  I  call  him." 

"  The  Yankees  are  changing  business  in  this  town,"  was 
the  Colonel's  answer.  "  We've  got  to  keep  the  pace,  Lige/' 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE   PARTY 

To  gentle  Miss  Anne  Briiismade,  to  Puss  Russell  of 
the  mischievous  eyes,  and  even  to  timid  Eugenie  Renault, 
the  question  that  burned  was  :  Would  he  come,  or  would 
he  not  ?  And,  secondarily,  how  would  Virginia  treat  him 
if  he  came  ?  Put  our  friend  Stephen  for  the  subjective, 
and  Miss  Carvel's  party  for  the  objective  in  the  above, 
and  we  have  the  clew.  For  very  young  girls  are  given  to 
making  much  out  of  a  very  little  in  such  matters.  If  Vir 
ginia  had  not  gotten  angry  when  she  had  been  teased  a 
fortnight  before,  all  would  have  been  well. 

Even  Puss,  who  walked  where  angels  feared  to  tread, 
did  not  dare  to  go  too  far  "with  Virginia.  She  had  taken 
care  before  the  day  of  the  party  to  beg  forgiveness  with 
considerable  humility.  It  had  been  granted  with  a  queenly 
generosity.  And  after  that  none  of  the  bevy  had  dared 
to  broach  the  -subject  to  Virginia.  Jack  Brinsmade  had. 
He  told  Puss  afterward  that  when  Virginia  got  through 
with  him,  he  felt  as  if  he  had  taken  a  rapid  trip  through 
the  wheel-house  of  a  large  steamer.  Puss  tried,  by  vari 
ous  ingenious  devices,  to  learn  whether  Mr.  Brice  had 
accepted  his  invitation.  She  failed. 

These  things  added  a  zest  to  a  party  long  looked  for 
ward  to  amongst  Virginia's  intimates.  In  those  days 
young  ladies  did  not  "  come  out "  so  frankly  as  they  do 
now.  Mothers  did  not  announce  to  the  world  that  they 
possessed  marriageable  daughters.  The  world  was  sup 
posed  to  know  that.  And  then  the  matrimonial  market 
was  feverishly  active.  Young  men  proposed  as  naturally 
as  they  now  ask  a  young  girl  to  go  for  a  walk,  —  and 
were  refused  quite  as  naturally.  An  offer  of  marriage 

106 


THE    PAETY  107 

was  not  the  fearful  and  wonderful  thing  —  to  be  dealt 
with  gingerly  —  which  it  has  since  become.  Seventeen 
was  often  the  age  at  which  they  began.  And  one  of  the 
big  Catherwood  boys  had  a  habit  of  laying  his  heart  and 
hand  at  Virginia's  feet  once  a  month.  Nor  did  his  vanity 
suffer  greatly  when  she  laughed  at  him. 

It  was  with  a  flutter  of  excitement,  therefore,  that  Miss 
Carvel's  guests  flitted  past  Jackson,  who  held  the  door 
open  obsequiously.  The  boldest  of  them  took  a  rapid 
survey  of  the  big  parlor,  before  they  put  foot  on  the  stairs, 
to  see  whether  Mr.  Brice  had  yet  arrived.  And  if  their 
curiosity  held  them  too  long,  they  were  usually  kissed  by 
the  Colonel. 

Mr.  Carvel  shook  hands  heartily  with  the  young  men 
and  called  them  by  their  first  names,  for  he  knew  most  of 
their  fathers  and  grandfathers.  And  if  an  older  gentle 
man  arrived,  perhaps  the  two  might  be  seen  going  down 
the  hall  together,  arm  in  arm.  So  came  his  beloved  en 
emy,  Judge  Whipple,  who  did  not  make  an  excursion  to 
the  rear  regions  of  the  house  with  the  Colonel ;  but  they 
stood  and  discussed  Mr.  President  Buchanan's  responsi 
bility  for  the  recent  panic,  until  the  band,  which  Mr.  Hop 
per  had  stationed  under  the  stairs,  drowned  their  voices. 

As  we  enter  the  room,  there  stands  Virginia  under  the 
rainbowed  prisms  of  the  great  chandelier,  receiving.  But 
here  was  suddenly  a  woman  of  twenty-eight,  where  only 
this  evening  we  knew  a  slip  of  a  girl.  It  was  a  trick  she 
had,  to  become  majestic  in  a  ball-gown.  She  held  her 
head  high,  as  a  woman  should,  and  at  her  slender  throat 
glowed  the  pearls  of  Dorothy  Manners. 

The  result  of  all  this  was  to  strike  a  little  awe  into  the 
souls  of  many  of  her  playmates.  Little  Eugenie  nearly 
dropped  a  curtsey.  Belle  Cluyme  was  so  impressed  that 
she  forgot  for  a  whole  hour  to  be  spiteful.  But  Puss 
Russell  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks,  and  asked  her  if  she 
really  wasn't  nervous. 

"  Nervous  !  "  exclaimed  Jinny  ;    "  why  ?  " 

Miss  Russell  glanced  significantly  towards  the  doorway. 
But  she  said  nothing  to  her  hostess,  for  fear  of  marring  an 


108  THE   CRISIS 

otherwise  happy  occasion.      She  retired  with  Jack  Brins- 
made  to  a  corner,  where  she  recited  :  — 

"  Oh  young  Lochinvar  is  come  out  of  the  East ; 
Of  millions  of  Yankees  I  love  him  the  least." 

"  What  a  joke  if  he  should  come  !  "  cried  Jack. 

Miss  Russell  gasped. 

Just  as  Mr.  Clarence  Colfax,  resplendent  in  new  even 
ing  clothes  just  arrived  from  New  York,  was  pressing  his 
claim  for  the  first  dance  with  his  cousin  in  opposition  to 
numerous  other  claims,  the  chatter  of  the  guests  died  away. 
Virginia  turned  her  head,  and  for  an  instant  the  pearls 
trembled  on  her  neck.  There  was  a  young  man  cordially 
and  unconcernedly  shaking  hands  with  her  father  and 
Captain  Lige.  Her  memory  of  that  moment  is,  strangely, 
not  of  his  face  (she  did  not  deign  to  look  at  that),  but  of 
the  muscle  of  his  shoulder  half  revealed  as  he  stretched 
forth  his  arm. 

Young  Mr.   Colfax  bent  over  to  her  ear. 

"  Virginia, "  he  whispered  earnestly,  almost  fiercely, 
"  Virginia,  who  invited  him  here  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  said  Virginia,  calmly,  "  of  course.  Who  in 
vites  any  one  here  ?  " 

"  But  !  "  cried  Clarence,  "  do  you  know  who  he  is  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  I  know.  And  is  that  any  reason 
why  he  should  not  come  here  as  a  guest  ?  Would  you 
bar  any  gentleman  from  your  house  on  account  of  his 
convictions  ?  " 

Ah,  Virginia,  who  had  thought  to  hear  that  argument 
from  your  lips  ?  What  would  frank  Captain  Lige  say  of 
the  consistency  of  women,  if  he  heard  you  now  ?  And 
how  give  an  account  of  yourself  to  Anne-  Brinsmade  ? 
What  contrariness  has  set  you  so  intense  against  your 
own  argument? 

Before  one  can  answer  this,  before  Mr.  Clarence  can 
recover  from  his  astonishment  and  remind  her  of  her 
vehement  words  on  the  subject  at  Bellegarde,  Mr.  Stephen 
is  making  thither  with  the  air  of  one  who  conquers. 
Again  the  natural  contrariness  of  women.  What  bare- 


THE    PARTY  109 

faced  impudence  !  Has  lie  no  shame  that  he  should  hold 
his  head  so  high  ?  She  feels  her  color  mounting,  even  as 
her  resentment  rises  at  his  self-possession,  and  yet  she 
would  have  despised  him  had  he  shown  self -consciousness 
in  gait  or  manner  in  the  sight  of  her  assembled  guests. 
Nearly  as  tall  as  the  Colonel  himself,  he  is  plainly  seen, 
and  Miss  Puss  in  her  corner  does  not  have  to  stand 
011  tiptoe.  Mr.  Carvel  does  the  honors  of  the  intro 
duction. 

But  a  daughter  of  the  Carvels  was  not  to  fail  before  such 
a  paltry  situation  as  this.  Shall  it  be  confessed  that  curi 
osity  stepped  into  the  breach  ?  As  she  gave  him  her  hand 
she  was  wondering  how  he  would  act. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  he  acted  detestably.  He  said  noth 
ing  whatever,  but  stood  regarding  her  with  a  clear  eye 
and  a  face  by  far  too  severe.  The  thought  that  he  was 
meditating  on  the  incident  of  the  auction  sale  crossed 
through  her  mind,  and  made  her  blood  simmer.  How 
dared  he  behave  so  !  The  occasion  called  for  a  little  small 
talk.  An  evil  spirit  took  possession  of  Virginia.  She 
turned. 

"  Mr.  Brice,  do  you  know  my  cousin,  Mr.  Colfax  ?  "  she 
said. 

Mr.  Brice  bowed.  "  I  know  Mr.  Colfax  by  sight,"  he 
replied. 

Then  Mr.  Colfax  made  a  stiff  bow.  To  this  new  phase 
his  sense  of  humor  did  not  rise.  Mr.  Brice  was  a  Yankee 
and  no  gentleman,  inasmuch  as  he  had  overbid  a  lady  for 
Hester. 

"  Have  you  come  here  to  live,  Mr.  Brice  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  Colonel  eyed  his  nephew  sharply.  But  Stephen 
smiled. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "if  I  can  presently  make  enough  to 
keep  me  alive."  Then  turning  to  Virginia,  he  said,  "  Will 
you  dance.,  Miss  Carvel  ?  " 

The  effrontery  of  this  demand  quite  drew  the  breath 
from,  the  impatient  young  gentlemen  who  had  been  wait 
ing  their  turn.  Several  of  them  spoke  up  in  remonstrance. 
And  for  the  moment  (let  one  confess  it  who  knows), 


110  THE   CRISIS 

Virginia  was  almost  tempted  to  lay  her  arm  in  his.  Then 
she  made  a  bow  that  would  have  been  quite  as  effective 
the  length  of  the  room. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Brice,"  she  said,  "  but  I  am  engaged 
to  Mr.  Coif  ax." 

Abstractedly  he  watched  her  glide  away  in  her  cousin's 
arms.  Stephen  had  a  way  of  being  preoccupied  at  such 
times.  When  he  grew  older  he  would  walk  the  length  of 
Olive  Street,  look  into  face  after  face  of  acquaintances, 
not  a  quiver  of  recognition  in  his  eyes.  But  most  prob 
ably  the  next  week  he  Avould  win  a  brilliant  case  in  the 
Supreme  Court.  And  so  now,  indifferent  to  the  amuse 
ment  of  some  about  him,  he  stood  staring  after  Virginia 
and  Clarence.  Where  had  he  seen  Coif  ax's  face  before 
he  came  West  ?  Ah,  he  knew.  Many,  many  years  before 
he  had  stood  with  his  father  in  the  mellow  light  of  the  long 
gallery  at  Hollingdean,  Kent,  before  a  portrait  of  the  Stu 
arts'  time.  The  face  was  that  of  one  of  Lord  Northwell's 
ancestors,  a  sporting  nobleman  of  the  time  of  the  second 
Charles.  It  was  a  head  which  compelled  one  to  pause 
before  it.  Strangely  enough,  —  it  was  the  head  likewise 
of  Clarence  Colfax. 

The  image  of  it  Stephen  had  carried  undimmed  in  the 
eye  of  his  memory.  White-haired  Northwell's  story,  also. 
lib  was  not  a  story  that  Mr.  Brice  had  expected  his  small 
son  to  grasp.  As  a  matter  of  fact  Stephen  had  not  grasped 
it  then — but  years  afterward.  It  was  not  a  pleasant 
story,  —  and  yet  there  was  much  of  credit  in  it  to  the 
young  rake  its  subject,  —  of  dash  and  courage  and  princely 
generosity  beside  the  profligacy  and  incontinence. 

The  face  had  impressed  him,  with  its  story.  He  had 
often  dreamed  of  it,  and  of  the  lace  collar  over  the  dull- 
gold  velvet  that  became  it  so  well.  And  here  it  was  at 
iiist,  in  a  city  west  of  the  Mississippi  River.  Here  were 
the  same  delicately  chiselled  features,  with  their  pallor, 
and  satiety  engraved  there  at  one  and  twenty.  Here  was 
the  same  lazy  scorn  in  the  eyes,  and  the  look  which  sleep 
lessness  gives  to  the  lids :  the  hair,  straight  and  fine  and 
black ;  the  wilful  indulgence  —  not  of  one  life,  but  of 


THE    PARTY  111 

generations  —  about  the  mouth  ;  the  pointed  chin.  And 
yet  it  was  a  face  to  dare  anything,  and  to  do  anything. 

One  thing  more  ere  we  have  done  with  that  which  no 
man  may  explain.  Had  he  dreamed,  too,  of  the  girl  ? 
Of  Virginia  ?  Stephen  might  not  tell,  but  thrice  had  the 
Colonel  spoken  to  him  before  he  answered. 

"  You  must  meet  some  of  these  young  ladies,  sir." 

It  was  little  wonder  that  Puss  Russell  thought  him  dull 
on  that  first  occasion.  Out  of  whom  condescension  is  to 
flow  is  a  matter  of  which  Heaven  takes  110  cognizance. 
To  use  her  own  words,  Puss  thought  him  "stuck  up," 
when  he  should  have  been  grateful.  We  know  that 
Stephen  was  not  stuck  up,  and  later  Miss  Russell  learned 
that  likewise.  Very  naturally  she  took  preoccupation  for 
indifference.  It  is  a  matter  worth  recording,  however, 
that  she  did  not  tease  him,  because  she  did  not  dare.  He 
did  not  ask  her  to  dance,  which  was  rude.  So  she  passed 
him  back  to  Mr.  Carvel,  who  introduced  him  to  Miss 
Renault  and  Miss  Saint  Cyr,  and  other  young  ladies  of 
the  best  French  families.  And  finally,  drifting  hither  and 
thither  with  his  eyes  on  Virginia,  in  an  evil  moment  he 
was  presented  to  Mrs.  Colfax.  Perhaps  it  has  been 
guessed  that  Mrs.  Colfax  was  a  very  great  lady  indeed, 
albeit  the  daughter  of  an  overseer.  She  bore  Addison 
Colfax's  name,  spent  his  fortune,  and  retained  her  good 
looks.  On  this  particular  occasion  she  was  enjoying 
herself  quite  as  much  as  any  young  girl  in  the  room  ;  and, 
while  resting  from  a  waltz,  was  regaling  a  number  of 
gentlemen  with  a  humorous  account  of  a  scandal  at  the 
Virginia  Springs. 

None  but  a  great  lady  could  have  meted  out  the  punish 
ment  administered  to  poor  Stephen.  None  but  a  great 
lady  could  have  conceived  it.  And  he,  who  had  never 
been  snubbed  before,  fell  headlong  into  her  trap.  How 
was  the  boy  to  know  that  there  was  no  heart  in  the  smile 
with  which  she  greeted  him  ?  It  was  all  over  in  an  in 
stant.  She  continued  to  talk  about  Virginia  Springs. 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Brice,  of  course  you  have  been  there.  Of 
course  you  know  the  Edmunds.  No  ?  You  haven't  been 


112  THE   CRISIS 

there  ?  You  don't  know  the  Edmunds  ?  I  thought  every 
body  had  been  there.  Charles,  you  look  as  if  you  were 
just  dying  to  waltz.  Let's  have  a  turn  before  the  music 
stops." 

And  so  she  whirled  away,  leaving  Stephen  forlorn,  a 
little  too  angry  to  be  amused  just  then.  In  that  state  he 
spied  a  gentleman  coming  towards  him  — a  gentleman  the 
sight  of  whom  he  soon  came  to  associate  with  all  that  is 
good  and  kindly  in  this  world,  Mr.  Brinsmade.  And 
now  he  put  his  hand  on  Stephen's  shoulder.  Whether 
he  had  seen  the  incident  just  past,  who  can  tell  ? 

"  My  son,"  said  he,  "  1  am  delighted  to  see  you  here. 
Now  that  we  are  such  near  neighbors,  we  must  be  nearer 
friends.  You  must  know  my  wife,  and  my  son  Jack,  and 
my  daughter  Anne." 

Mrs.  Brinsmade  was  a  pleasant  little  body,  but  plainly 
not  a  fit  mate  for  her  husband.  Jack  gave  Stephen  a 
warm  grasp  of  the  hand,  and  an  amused  look.  As  for 
Anne,  she  was  more  like  her  father;  she  was  Stephen's 
friend  from  that  hour. 

"I  have  seen  you  quite  often,  going  in  at  your  gate, 
Mr.  Brice.  And  I  have  seen  your  mother,  too.  I  like 
her,"  said  Anne.  "  She  has  such  a  wonderful  face."  And 
the  girl  raised  her  truthful  blue  eyes  to  his. 

"  My  mother  would  be  delighted  to  know  you,"  he  ven 
tured,  not  knowing  what  else  to  say.  It  was  an  effort  for 
him  to  reflect  upon  their  new  situation  as  poor  tenants  to 
a  wealthy  family. 

"Oh,  do  you  think  so?"  cried  Anne.  "I  shall  call  on 
her  to-morrow,  with  mother.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Brice," 
she  continued,  "do  you  know  that  your  mother  is  just 
the  person  I  should  go  to  if  I  were  in  trouble,  whether  I 
knew  her  or  not?" 

"I  have  found  her  a  good  person  in  trouble,"  said 
Stephen,  simply.  He  might  have  said  the  same  of  Anne. 

Anne  was  enchanted.  She  had  thought  him  cold,  but 
these  words  belied  that.  She  had  wrapped  him  in  that 
diaphanous  substance  with  which  young  ladies  (and  some 
times  older  ones)  are  wont  to  deck  their  heroes.  She  had 


THE    PARTY  113 

approached  a  mystery  to  find  it  human,  as  are  many  mys 
teries.  But  thank  Heaven  that  she  found  a  dignity,  a 
seriousness,  —  and  these  more  than  satisfied  her.  Like 
wise,  she  discovered  something  she  had  not  looked  for, 
an  occasional  way  of  saying  things  that  made  her  laugh. 
She  danced  with  him,  and  passed  him  back  to  Miss  Puss 
Russell,  who  was  better  pleased  this  time  ;  she  passed  him 
on  to  her  sister,  who  also  danced  with  him,  and  sent  him 
upstairs  for  her  handkerchief. 

Nevertheless,  Stephen  was  troubled.  As  the  evening 
wore  on,  he  was  more  and  more  aware  of  an  uncompromis 
ing  attitude  in  his  young  hostess,  whom  he  had  seen 
whispering  to  various  young  ladies  from  behind  her  fan 
as  they  passed  her.  He  had  not  felt  equal  to  asking  her 
to  dance  a  second  time.  Honest  Captain  Lige  Brent,  who 
seemed  to  have  taken  a  fancy  to  him,  bandied  him  on  his 
lack  of  courage  with  humor  that  was  a  little  rough.  And, 
to  Stephen's  amazement,  even  Judge  Whipple  had  pricked 
him  on. 

It  was  on  his  way  upstairs  after  Emily  Russell's  hand 
kerchief  that  he  ran  across  another  acquaintance.  Mr. 
Eliphalet  Hopper,  in  Sunday  broadcloth,  was  seated  on 
the  landing,  his  head  lowered  to  the  level  of  the  top  of 
the  high  door  of  the  parlor.  Stephen  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  picture  whereon  his  eyes  were  fixed.  Perhaps  it 
is  needless  to  add  that  Miss  Virginia  Carvel  formed  the 
central  figure  of  it. 

"  Enjoyin'  yourself  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Hopper. 

Stephen  countered. 

"  Are  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"So  so,"  said  Mr.  Hopper,  and  added  darkly:  "I  ain't 
in  no  hurry.  Just  now  they  callate  I'm  about  good 
enough  to  manage  the 'business  end  of  an  affair  like  this 
here.  I  guess  I  can  wait.  But  some  day,"  said  he,  sud 
denly  barring  Stephen's  way,  "some  day  I'll  give  a  party. 
And  hark  to  me  when  I  tell  you  that  these  here  aristo 
crats '11  be  glad  enough  to  get  invitations." 

Stephen  pushed  past  coldly.  This  time  the  man  made 
him  shiver.  The  incident  was  all  that  was  needed  to 


114  THE   CRISIS 

dishearten  and  disgust  him.  Kindly  as  he  had  been 
treated  by  others,  far  back  in  his  soul  was  a  thing  that 
rankled.  Shall  it  be  told  crudely  why  he  went  that 
night  ?  Stephen  Brice,  who  would  not  lie  to  others,  lied 
to  himself.  And  when  he  came  downstairs  again  and  pre 
sented  Miss  Emily  with  her  handkerchief,  his  next  move 
was  in  his  mind.  And  that  was  to  say  good-night  to  the 
Colonel,  and  more  frigidly  to  Miss  Carvel  herself.  But 
music  has  upset  many  a  man's  calculations. 

The  strains  of  the  Jenny  Lind  waltz  were  beginning  to 
float  through  the  rooms.  There  was  Miss  Virginia  in  a 
corner  of  the  big  parlor,  for  the  moment  alone  with  her 
cousin.  And  thither  Stephen  sternly  strode.  Not  a  sign 
did  she  give  of  being  aware  of  his  presence  until  he  stood 
before  her.  Even  then  she  did  not  lift  her  eyes.  But 
she  said  :  — 

"  So  you  have  come  at  last  to  try  again,  Mr,  Brice  ?  " 

And  Mr.  Brice  said  :  — 

"If  you  will  do  me  the  honor,  Miss  Carvel." 

She  did  not  reply  at  once.  Clarence  Coif  ax  got  to  his 
feet.  Then  she  looked  up  at  the  two  men  as  they  stood 
side  by  side,  and  perhaps  swept  them  both  in  an  instant's 
comparison. 

The  New  Englander's  face  must  have  reminded  her 
more  of  her  own  father,  Colonel  Carvel.  It  possessed, 
from  generations  known,  the  power  to  control  itself.  She 
afterwards  admitted  that  she  accepted  him  to  tease  Clar 
ence.  Miss  Russell,  whose  intuitions  are  usually  correct, 
does  not  believe  this. 

"  I  will  dance  with  you,"  said  Virginia. 

But,  once  in  his  arms,  she  seemed  like  a  wild  thing, 
resisting.  Although  her  gown  brushed  his  coat,  the  space 
between  them  was  infinite,  and  her  hand  lay  limp  in  his, 
unresponsive  of  his  own  pressure.  Not  so  her  feet  ;  they 
caught  the  step  and  moved  with  the  rhythm  of  the  music, 
and  round  the  room  they  swung.  More  than  one  pair 
paused  in  the  dance  to  watch  them.  Then,  as  they  glided 
past  the  door,  Stephen  was  disagreeably  conscious  of  some 
one  gazing  down  from  above,  and  he  recalled  Eliphalet 


"'SO    YOU    HAVE    COME    AT    LAST    TO    TRY    AGAIN,    Mn.    BltlCE  ? 


THE   PAKTY  115 

Hopper  and  his  position.     The  sneer  from  Eliphalet's  face 
seemed  to  penetrate  like  a  chilly  draught. 

All  at  once,  Virginia  felt  her  partner  gathering  up  his 
strength,  and  by  some  compelling  force,  more  of  will 
than  of  muscle,  draw  her  nearer.  Unwillingly  her  hand 
tightened  under  his,  and  her  blood  beat  faster  and  her 
color  came  and  went  as  they  two  moved  as  one.  Anger 
—  helpless  anger  —  took  possession  of  her  as  she  saw  the 
smiles  on  the  faces  of  her  friends,  and  Puss  Russell  mock 
ingly  throwing  a  kiss  as  she  passed  her.  And  then,  strange 
in  the  telling,  a  thrill  as  of  power  rose  within  her  which 
she  strove  against  in  vain.  A  knowledge  of  him  who 
guided  her  so  swiftly,  so  unerringly,  which  she  had  felt 
with  no  other  man.  Faster  and  faster  they  stepped,  each 
forgetful  of  self  and  place,  until  the  waltz  came  suddenly 
to  a  stop. 

"  By  gum  ! "  said  Captain  Lige  to  Judge  Whipple, 
"  you  can  whollop  me  on  my  own  forecastle  if  they  ain't 
the  handsomest  couple  I  ever  did  see." 


BOOK   II 
CHAPTER   I 

RAW   MATERIAL 

SUMMER,  intolerable  summer,  was  upon  the  city  at  last. 
The  families  of  its  richest  citizens  had  fled.  Even  at  that 
early  day  some  braved  the  long  railroad  journey  to  the 
Atlantic  coast.  Amongst  these  were  our  friends  the 
Cluymes,  who  come  not  strongly  into  this  history.  Some 
went  to  the  Virginia  Springs.  But  many,  like  the  Brins- 
mades  and  the  Russells,  the  Tiptons  and  the  Hollings- 
worths,  retired  to  the  local  paradise  of  their  country  places 
on  the  Bellefontaine  road,  on  the  cool  heights  above  the 
river.  Thither,  as  a  respite  from  the  hot  office,  Stephen 
was  often  invited  by  kind  Mr.  Brirismade,  who  sometimes 
drove  him  out  in  his  own  buggy.  Likewise  he  had  vis 
ited  Miss  Puss  Russell.  But  Miss  Virginia  Carvel  he  had 
never  seen  since  the  night  he  had  danced  with  her.  This 
was  because,  after  her  return  from  the  young  ladies' 
school  at  Monticello,  she  had  gone  to  Glencoe,  —  Glencoe, 
magic  spot,  perched  high  on  wooded  highlands.  And 
under  these  the  Meramec,  crystal  pure,  ran  lightly  on  sand 
and  pebble  to  her  bridal  with  that  turbid  tyrant,  the 
Father  of  Waters. 

To  reach  Glencoe  you  spent  two  dirty  hours  on  that 
railroad  which  (it  was  fondly  hoped)  would  one  day 
stretch  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  You  generally  spied  one  of 
the  big  Catherwood  boys  in  the  train,  or  their  tall  sister 
Maude.  The  Catherwoods  likewise  lived  at  Glencoe  in 
the  summer.  And  on  some  Saturday  afternoons  a  grim 

116 


RAW   MATERIAL  117 

figure  in  a  linen  duster  and  a  silk  skull-cap  took  a  seat  in 
the  forward  car.  That  was  Judge  Whipple,  on  his  way 
to  spend  a  quiet  Sunday  with  Colonel  Carvel. 

To  the  surprise  of  many  good  people,  the  Judge  had 
recently  formed  another  habit.  At  least  once  a  week  he 
would  drop  in  at  the  little  house  on  Olive  Street  next  to 
Mr.  Brinsmade's  big  one,  which  was  shut  up,  and  take  tea 
with  Mrs.  Brice.  Afterward  he  would  sit  on  the  little 
porch  over  the  garden  in  the  rear,  or  on  the  front  steps,  and 
watch  the  bob-tailed  horse-cars  go  by.  His  conversation 
was  chiefly  addressed  to  the  widow.  Rarely  to  Stephen, 
whose  wholesome  respect  for  his  employer  had  in  no  wise 
abated. 

Through  the  stifling  heat  of  these  summer  days  Stephen 
sat  in  the  outer  office,  straining  at  the  law.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  fact  that  Mr.  Whipple  went  to  his  mother's 
house,  despair  would  have  seized  him  long  since.  Appar 
ently  his  goings-out  and  his  comings-in  were  noted  only 
by  Mr.  Richter.  Truly  the  Judge's  methods  were  not 
Harvard  methods.  And  if  there  were  pride  in  the  young 
Bostonian,  Mr.  Whipple  thought  he  knew  the  cure  for  it. 

It  was  to  Richter  Stephen  owed  a  debt  of  gratitude  in 
these  days.  He  would  often  take  his  midday  meal  in  the 
down-town  beer  garden  with  the  quiet  German.  Then 
there  came  a  Sunday  afternoon  (to  be  marked  with  a 
red  letter)  when  Richter  transported  him  into  Germany 
itself.  Stephen's  eyes  were  opened.  Richter  took  him 
across  the  Rhine.  The  Rhine  was  Market  Street,  and 
south  of  that  street  was  a  country  of  which  polite  Ameri 
can  society  took  no  cognizance. 

Here  was  an  epic  movement  indeed,  for  South  St. 
Louis  was  a  great  sod  uprooted  from  the  Fatherland  and 
set  down  in  all  its  vigorous  crudity  in  the  warm  black 
mud  of  the  Mississippi  Valley.  Here  lager  beer  took  the 
place  of  Bourbon,  and  black  bread  and  sausages  of  hot 
rolls  and  fried  chicken.  Here  were  quaint  market- 
houses  squatting  in  the  middle  of  wide  streets  ;  Lutheran 
churches,  square  and  uncompromising,  and  bulky  Turner 
Halls,  where  German  children  were  taught  the  German 


118  THE  CRISIS 

tongue.  Here,  in  a  shady  grove  of  mulberry  and  locust, 
two  hundred  families  were  spread  out  at  their  ease. 

For  a  while  Richter  sat  in  silence,  puffing  at  a  meer 
schaum  with  a  huge  brown  bowl.  A  trick  of  the  mind 
opened  for  Stephen  one  of  the  histories  in  his  father's 
library  in  Beacon  Street,  across  the  pages  of  which  had 
flitted  the  ancestors  of  this  blue-eyed  and  great-chested 
Saxon.  He  saw  them  in  cathedral  forests,  with  the  red 
hair  long  upon  their  bodies.  He  saw  terrifying  battles 
with  the  Roman  Empire  surging  back  and  forth  through 
the  low  countries.  He  saw  a  lad  of  twenty  at  the  head  of 
rugged  legions  clad  in  wild  skins,  sweeping  Rome  out  of 
Gaul.  Back  in  the  dim  ages  Richter's  fathers  must  have 
defended  grim  Eresburg.  And  it  seemed  to  him  that  in 
the  end  the  new  Republic  must  profit  by  this  rugged  stock, 
which  had  good  women  for  wives  and  mothers,  and  for 
fathers  men  in  whose  blood  dwelt  a  fierce  patriotism  and 
contempt  for  cowardice. 

This  fancy  of  ancestry  pleased  Stephen.  He  thought 
of  the  forefathers  of  those  whom  he  knew,  who  dwelt  north 
of  Market  Street.  Many,  though  this  generation  of  the 
French  might  know  it  not,  had  bled  at  Calais  and  at 
Agincourt,  had  followed  the  court  of  France  in  clumsy 
coaches  to  Blois  and  Arnboise,  or  lived  in  hovels  under 
the  castle  walls.  Others  had  charged  after  the  Black 
Prince  at  Poictiers,  and  fought  as  serf  or  noble  in  the  war 
of  the  Roses;  had  been  hatters  or  tailors  in  Cromwell's 
armies,  or  else  had  sacrificed  lands  and  fortunes  for  Charles 
Stuart.  These  English  had  toiled,  slow  but  resistless, 
over  the  misty  Blue  Ridge  after  Boone  and  Harrod  to 
this  old  St.  Louis  of  the  French,  their  enemies,  whose  fur 
traders  and  missionaries  had  long  followed  the  veins  of 
the  vast  western  wilderness.  And  now,  on  to  the  struc 
ture  builded  by  these  two,  comes  Germany  to  be  welded, 
to  strengthen  or  to  weaken. 

Richter  put  down  his  pipe  on  the  table. 

"  Stephen,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  you  do  not  share  the 
prejudice  against  us  here  ?  " 

Stephen  flushed.     He  thought  of  some  vigorous  words 


EAW  MATERIAL  119 

that  Miss  Puss  Russell  had  used  on  the  subject  of  the 
"Dutch." 

"  No,"  said  he,  emphatically. 

"  I  am  glad,"  answered  Richter,  with  a  note  of  sadness 
in  his  voice.  "  Do  not  despise  us  before  you  know  more 
of  us.  We  are  still  feudal  in  Germany  —  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  The  peasant  is  a  serf.  He  is  compelled  to  serve 
the  lord  of  the  land  every  year  with  so  much  labor  of 
his  hands.  The  small  farmers,  the  Q-ross  and  Mittel 
Bauern,  we  call  them,  are  also  mortgaged  to  the  nobles 
who  tyrannize  our  Vaterland.  Our  merchants  are  little 
merchants  —  shopkeepers,  you  would  say.  My  poor  father, 
an  educated  man,  was  such.  They  fought  our  revolu 
tion." 

"  And  now,"  said  Stephen,  "why  do  they  not  keep  their 
hold?" 

Richter  sighed. 

"  We  were  unused  to  ruling,"  he  answered.  "  We 
knew  not  how  to  act  —  what  to  do.  You  must  remember 
that  we  were  not  trained  to  govern  ourselves,  as  are  you 
of  the  English  race,  from  children.  Those  who  have  been 
for  centuries  ground  under  heel  do  not  make  practical 
parliamentarians.  No;  your  heritage  is  liberty  —  you 
Americans  and  English  ;  and  we  Germans  must  desert 
oar  native  land  to  partake  of  it." 

"  And  was  it  not  hard  to  leave  ?  "  asked  Stephen,  gently. 

The  eyes  of  the  German  filled  at  the  recollection,  nor 
did  he  seem  ashamed  of  his  tears. 

"  I  had  a  poor  old  father  whose  life  was  broken  to  save 
the  Vaterland,  but  not  his  spirit,"  he  cried,  "no,  not  that. 
My  father  was  born  in  1797.  God  directed  my  grand 
father  to  send  him  to  the  Kolnisches  gymnasium,  where 
the  great  Jahn  taught.  Jahn  was  our  Washington,  the 
father  of  Germany  that  is  to  be. 

"  Then  our  Fatherland  was  French.  Our  women  wore 
Parisian  clothes,  and  spoke  the  language  ;  French  immo 
rality  and  atheism  had  spread  like  a  plague  among  us; 
Napoleon  the  vile  had  taken  the  sword  of  our  Frederick 
from  Berlin.  It  was  Father  Jahn  (so  we  love  to  call 


120  THE   CKISIS 

him),  it  was  Father  Jahn  who  founded  the  Turnschulen, 
that  the  generations  to  come  might  return  to  simple  Ger 
man  ways,  —  plain  fare,  high  principles,  our  native  tongue, 
and  the  development  of  the  body.  The  downfall  of  the 
fiend  Napoleon  and  the  Vaterland  united  —  these  two  his 
scholars  must  have  written  in  their  hearts.  All  summer 
long,  in  their  black  caps  and  linen  pantaloons,  they  would 
trudge  after  him,  begging  a  crust  here  and  a  cheese  there, 
to  spread  his  teachings  far  and  wide  under  the  thatched 
roofs. 

"Then  came  1811.  I  have  heard  my  father  tell  how 
in  the  heat  of  that  year  a  great  red  comet  burned  in  the 
sky,  even  as  that  we  now  see,  my  friend.  God  forbid 
that  this  portends  blood.  But  in  the  coming  spring  the 
French  conscripts  filled  our  sacred  land  like  a  swarm  of 
locusts,  devouring  as  they  went.  And  at  their  head,  with 
the  pomp  of  Darius,  rode  that  destroyer  of  nations  and 
homes,  Napoleon.  What  was  Germany  then  ?  Ashes. 
But  the  red  embers  were  beneath,  fanned  by  Father  Jahn. 
Napoleon  at  Dresden  made  our  princes  weep.  Never, 
even  in  the  days  of  the  Frankish  kings,  had  we  been  so 
humbled.  He  dragged  our  young  men  with  him  to  Russia, 
and  left  them  to  die  moaning  on  the  frozen  wastes,  while 
he  drove  off  in  his  sledge. 

"  It  was  the  next  year  that  Germany  rose.  High  and 
low,  rich  and  poor,  Jaegers  and  Landwehr,  came  flocking 
into  the  army,  and  even  the  old  men,  the  Landstrum. 
Russia  was  an  ally,  and  later,  Austria.  My  father,  a  lad 
of  sixteen,  was  in  the  Landwehr,  under  the  noble  Blucher 
in  Silesia,  when  they  drove  the  French  into  the  Katzbach 
and  the  Neisse,  swollen  by  the  rains  into  torrents.  It  had 
rained  until  the  forests  were  marshes.  Powder  would 
not  burn.  But  Blucher,  ah,  there  was  a  man !  He 
whipped  his  great  sabre  from  under  his  cloak,  crying  4  Vor- 
wdrts !  Vorwarts!'  And  the  Landwehr  with  one  great 
shout  slew  their  enemies  with  the  butts  of  their  muskets 
until  their  arms  were  weary  and  the  bodies  were  tossed 
like  logs  in  the  foaming  waters.  They  called  Blucher 
Marshal  Vorwarts  ! 


RAW   MATERIAL  121 

"Then  Napoleon  was  sent  to  Elba.  But  the  victors 
quarrelled  amongst  themselves,  while  Talleyrand  and 
Metternich  tore  our  Vaterland  into  strips,  and  set  brother 
against  brother.  And  our  blood,  and  the  grief  for  the 
widows  and  the  fatherless,  went  for  nothing." 

Richter  paused  to  light  his  pipe. 

"  After  a  while,"  he  continued  presently,  "  came  the 
German  Confederation,  with  Austria  at  the  head.  Rid  of 
Napoleon,  we  had  another  despot  in  Metternich.  But  the 
tree  which  Jahn  had  planted  grew,  and  its  branches  spread. 
The  great  master  was  surrounded  by  spies.  My  father 
had  gone  to  Jena  University,  when  he  joined  the  Burschen- 
Bckqft,  or  Students'  League,  of  which  I  will  tell  you  later. 
It  was  pledged  to  the  rescue  of  the  Vaterland.  He  was 
sent  to  prison  for  dipping  his  handkerchief  in  the  blood  of 
Sand,  beheaded  for  liberty  at  Mannheim.  Afterwards  he 
was  liberated,  and  went  to  Berlin  and  married  my  mother, 
who  died  when  I  was  young.  Twice  again  he  was  in 
prison  because  the  societies  met  at  his  house.  We  were 
very  poor,  my  friend.  You  in  America  know  not  the 
meaning  of  that  word.  His  health  broke,  and  when  '48 
came,  he  was  an  old  man.  His  hair  was  white,  and  he 
walked  the  streets  with  a  crutch.  But  he  had  saved  a 
little  money  to  send  me  to  Jena. 

"  He  was  proud  of  me.  I  was  big-boned  and  fair,  like 
my  mother.  And  when  I  came  home  at  the  end  of  a  Semester 
—  I  can  see  him  now,  as  he  would  hobble  to  the  door, 
wearing  the  red  and  black  and  gold  of  the  Burschenschaft. 
And  he  would  keep  me  up  half  the  night  —  telling  him  of 
our  schlager  fights  with  the  aristocrats.  My  father  had 
been  a  noted  swordsman  in  his  day." 

He  stopped  abruptly,  and  colored.  For  Stephen  was 
staring  at  the  jagged  scar.  He  had  never  summoned  the 
courage  to  ask  Richter  how  he  came  by  it. 

"  Schlager  fights  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Broadswords,"  answered  the  German,  hastily.  "  Some 
day  I  will  tell  you  of  them,  and  of  the  struggle  with  the 
troops  in  the  Breite  Strasse  in  March.  We  lost,  as  I  told 
you,  because  we  knew  not  how  to  hold  what  we  had  gained. 


122  THE   CRISIS 

I  left  Germany,  hoping  to  make  a  home  here  for  my  poor 
father.  How  sad  his  face  as  he  kissed  me  farewell  !  And 
he  said  to  me:  'Carl,  if  ever  your  new  Vaterland,  the  good 
Republic,  be  in  danger,  sacrifice  all.  I  have  spent  my 
years  in  bondage,  and  I  say  to  you  that  life  without  liberty 
is  not  worth  the  living.'  Three  months  I  was  gone, 
and  he  was  dead,  without  that  for  which  he  had  striven 
so  bravely.  He  never  knew  what  it  is  to  have  an  abun 
dance  of  meat.  He  never  knew  from  one  day  to  the  other 
when  he  would  have  to  embrace  me,  all  he  owned,  and 
march  away  to  prison,  because  he  was  a  patriot."  Richter's 
voice  had  fallen  low,  but  now  he  raised  it.  "  Do  you  think, 
my  friend,"  he  cried,  "  do  you  think  that  I  would  not  die 
willingly  for  this  new  country  if  the  time  should  come  ? 
Yes,  and  there  are  a  million  like  me,  once  German,  now 
American,  who  will  give  their  lives  to  preserve  this  Union. 
For  without  it  the  world  is  not  fit  to  live  in." 

Stephen  had  food  for  thought  as  he  walked  northward 
through  the  strange  streets  on  that  summer  evening*  Here 
indeed  was  a  force  not  to  be  reckoned,  and  which  few  had 
taken  into  account. 


CHAPTER   II 

ABRAHAM   LINCOLN 

IT  is  sometimes  instructive  to  look  back  and  see  how 
Destiny  gave  us  a  kick  here,  and  Fate  a  shove  there,  that 
sent  us  in  the  right  direction  at  the  proper  time.  And 
when  Stephen  Brice  looks  backward  now,  he  laughs  to 
think  that  he  did  not  suspect  the  Judge  of  being  an  ally  of 
the  two  who  are  mentioned  above.  The  sum  total  of  Mr. 
Whipple's  words  and  advices  to  him  that  summer  had 
been  these.  Stephen  was  dressed  more  carefully  than 
usual,  in  view  of  a  visit  to  Bellefontaine  Road.  Where 
upon  the  Judge  demanded  whether  he  were  contemplat 
ing  marriage.  Without  waiting  for  a  reply  he  pointed  to 
a  rope  and  a  slab  of  limestone  on  the  pavement  below,  and 
waved  his  hand  unmistakably  toward  the  Mississippi. 

Miss  Russell  was  of  the  opinion  that  Mr.  Whipple  had 
once  been  crossed  in  love. 

But  we  are  to  speak  more  particularly  of  a  put-up  job, 
although  Stephen  did  not  know  this  at  the  time. 

Towards  five  o'clock  of  a  certain  afternoon  in  August 
of  that  year,  1858,  Mr.  Whipple  emerged  from  his  den. 
Instead  of  turning  to  the  right,  he  strode  straight  to 
Stephen's  table.  His  communications  were  always  a  trifle 
startling.  This  was  no  exception. 

"  Mr.  Brice,"  said  he,  "  you  are  to  take  the  six  forty- 
five  train  on  the  St.  Louis,  Alton,  and  Chicago  road  to 
morrow  morning  for  Springfield,  Illinois." 

"  Yes, ,  sir." 

"  Arriving  at  Sprinfield,  you  are  to  deliver  this  enve 
lope  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Abraham  Lincoln,  of  the  law 
firm  of  Lincoln  &  Herndon." 

123 


124  THE   CRISIS 

"  Abraham  Lincoln  !  "  cried  Stephen,  rising  and  strad 
dling  his  chair.  "  But,  sir  —  " 

"Abraham  Lincoln,"  interrupted  the  Judge,  forcibly. 
"  I  try  to  speak  plainly,  sir.  You  are  to  deliver  it  into 
Mr.  Lincoln's  hands.  If  he  is  not  in  Springfield,  find 
out  where  he  is  and  follow  him  up.  Your  expenses  will 
be  paid  by  me.  The  papers  are  important.  Do  you 
understand,  sir  ?  " 

Stephen  did.  And  he  knew  better  than  to  argue  the 
matter  with  Mr.  Whipple.  He  had  read  in  the  Missouri 
Democrat  of  this  man  Lincoln,  a  country  lawyer  who  had 
once  been  to  Congress,  and  who  was  even  now  disputing 
the  senatorship  of  his  state  with  the  renowned  Douglas. 
In  spite  of  their  complacent  amusement,  he  had  won  a 
little  admiration  from  conservative  citizens  who  did  not 
believe  in  the  efficacy  of  Judge  Douglas's  Squatter  Sover 
eignty.  Likewise  this  Mr.  Lincoln,  who  had  once  been  a 
rail-splitter,  was  uproariously  derided  by  Northern  Demo 
crats  because  he  had  challenged  Mr.  Douglas  to  seven 
debates,  to  be  held  at  different  towns  in  the  state  of  Illi 
nois.  David  with  his  sling  and  his  smooth  round  pebble 
must  have  had  much  of  the  same  sympathy  and  ridicule. 

For  Mr.  Douglas,  Senator  and  Judge,  was  a  national 
character,  mighty  in  politics,  invulnerable  in  the  armor  of 
his  oratory.  And  he  was  known  far  and  wide  as  the 
Little  Giant.  Those  whom  he  did  not  conquer  with  his 
logic  were  impressed  by  his  person. 

Stephen  remembered  with  a  thrill  that  these  debates 
were  going  on  now.  One,  indeed,  had  been  held,  and  had 
appeared  in  fine  print  in  a  corner  of  the  Democrat.  Per 
haps  this  Lincoln  might  not  be  ia  Springfield  ;  perhaps  he, 
Stephen  Brice,  might,  by  chance,  hit  upon  a  debate,  and 
see  and  hear  the  tower  of  the  Democracy,  the  Honorable 
Stephen  A.  Douglas. 

But  it  is  greatly  to  be  feared  that  our  friend  Stephen 
was  bored  with  his  errand  before  he  arrived  at  the  little 
wooden  station  of  the  Illinois  capital.  Standing  on  the 
platform  after  the  train  pulled  out,  he  summoned  up 
courage  to  ask  a  citizen  with  no  mustache  and  a  beard, 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN  125 

which  he  swept  away  when  he  spat,  where  was  the  office 
of  Lincoln  &  Herndon.  The  stranger  spat  twice,  regarded 
Mr.  Brice  pityingly,  and  finally  led  him  in  silence  past  the 
picket  fence  and  the  New  England-looking  meeting-house 
opposite  until  they  came  to  the  great  square  on  which  the 
State  House  squatted.  The  State  House  was  a  building 
with  much  pretension  to  beauty,  built  in  the  classical 
style,  of  a  yellow  stone,  with  solid  white  blinds  in  the  high 
windows  and  mighty  columns  capped  at  the  gently  slanting 
roof.  But  on  top  of  it  was  reared  a  crude  wooden  dome, 
like  a  clay  head  on  a  marble  statue. 

"That  there,"  said  the  stranger,  "is  whar  we  watches 
for  the  County  Delegations  when  they  come  in  to  a  meet- 
in'."  And  with  this  remark,  pointing  with  a  stubby 
thumb  up  a  well-worn  stair,  he  departed  before  Stephen 
could  thank  him.  Stephen  paused  under  the  awning,  of 
which  there  were  many  shading  the  brick  pavement,  to 
regard  the  straggling  line  of  stores  and  houses  which  sur 
rounded  and  did  homage  to  the  yellow  pile.  The  brick 
house  in  which  Mr.  Lincoln's  office  was  had  decorations 
above  the  windows.  Mounting  the  stair,  Stephen  found 
a  room  bare  enough,  save  for  a  few  chairs  and  law  books, 
and  not  a  soul  in  attendance.  After  sitting  awhile  by  the 
window,  mopping  his  brow  with  a  handkerchief,  he  went 
out  on  the  landing  to  make  inquiries.  There  he  met 
another  citizen  in  shirt  sleeves,  like  unto  the  first,  in  the 
very  act  of  sweeping  his  beard  out  of  the  way  of  a  dex 
terous  expectoration. 

"  Wai,  young  man,"  said  he,  "  who  be  you  lookin'  for 
here  ?  " 

"  For  Mr.  Lincoln,"  said  Stephen. 

At  this  the  gentleman  sat  down  on  the  dirty  top  step, 
and  gave  vent  to  quiet  but  annoying  laughter. 

"  I  reckon  you  come  to  the  wrong  place." 

"  I  was  told  this  was  his  office,"  said  Stephen,  with 
some  heat. 

"  Whar  be  you  from  ?  "  said  the  citizen,  with  interest. 

"  I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  it,"  answered  our 
friend. 


126  THE   CRISIS 

"Wai,"  said  the  citizen,  critically,  "if  you  was  from 
Philadelphy  or  Boston,  you  might  stand  acquitted." 

Stephen  was  on  the  point  of  claiming  Boston,  but 
wisely  hesitated. 

"I'm  from  St.  Louis,  with  a  message  for  Mr.  Lincoln," 
he  replied. 

"  Ye  talk  like  ye  was  from  down  East,"  said  the  citizen, 
who  seemed  in  the  humor  for  conversation.  "  I  reckon 
"  old  Abe's '  too  busy  to  see  you.  Say,  young  man,  did 
you  ever  hear  of  Stephen  Arnold  Douglas,  alias  the  Little 
Giant,  alias  the  Idol  of  our  State,  sir  ?  " 

This  was  too  much  for  Stephen,  who  left  the  citizen 
without  the  compliment  of  a  farewell.  Continuing  around 
the  square,  inquiring  for  Mr.  Lincoln's  house,  he  pres 
ently  got  beyond  the  stores  and  burning  pavements  on 
to  a  plank  walk,  under  great  shade  trees,  and  past  old 
brick  mansions  set  well  back  from  the  street.  At  length 
he  paused  in  front  of  a  wooden  house  of  a  dirty  grayisli 
brown,  too  high  for  its  length  and  breadth,  with  tall 
shutters  of  the  same  color,  and  a  picket  fence  on  top  of 
the  retaining  wall  which  lifted  the  yard  above  the  plank 
walk.  It  was  an  ugly  house,  surely.  But  an  ugly  house 
may  look  beautiful  when  surrounded  by  such  heavy  trees 
as  this  was.  Their  shade  was  the  most  inviting  thing 
Stephen  had  seen.  A  boy  of  sixteen  or  so  was  swinging 
on  the  gate,  plainly  a  very  mischievous  boy,  with  a  round, 
laughing,  sunburned  face  and  bright  eyes.  In  front  of  the 
gate  was  a  shabby  carriage  with  top  and  side  curtains, 
hitched  to  a  big  bay  horse. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  Mr.  Lincoln  lives  ?  "  inquired 
Stephen. 

"  Well,  I  guess,"  said  the  boy.  "  I'm  his  son,  and  he 
lives  right  here  when  he's  at  home.  But  that  hasn't  been 
often  lately." 

"Where  is  he?"  asked  Stephen,  beginning  to  realize 
the  purport  of  his  conversations  with  citizens. 

Young  Mr.  Lincoln  mentioned  the  name  of  a  small 
town  in  the  northern  part  of  the  state,  where  he  said  his 
father  would  stop  that  night.  He  told  Stephen  that  he 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN  127 

looked  wilted,  invited  him  into  the  house  to  have  a  glass 
of  lemonade,  and  to  join  him  and  another  boy  in  a  fishing 
excursion  with  the  big  bay  horse.  Stephen  told  young 
Mr.  Lincoln  that  he  should  have  to  take  the  first  train 
after  his  father. 

"  Jiminy  !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  enviously,  "  then 
you'll  hear  the  Freeport  debate." 

Now  it  has  been  said  that  the  day  was  scorching  hot. 
And  when  Stephen  had  got  back  to  the  wooden  station, 
and  had  waited  an  hour  for  the  Bloomington  express,  his 
anxiety  to  hear  the  Freeport  debate  was  not  as  keen  as 
it  might  have  been.  Late  in  the  afternoon  he  changed  at 
Bloomington  to  the  Illinois  Central  Railroad.  The  sun 
fell  down  behind  the  cardboard  edge  of  the  prairie,  the 
train  rattled  on  into  the  north,  wrapped  in  its  dust  and 
smoke,  and  presently  became  a  long  comet,  roaring  red, 
to  match  that  other  comet  which  flashed  in  the  sky. 

By  this  time  it  may  be  said  that  our  friend  was  heartily 
sick  of  his  mission.  He  tried  to  doze;  but  two  men, 
a  farmer  and  a  clerk,  got  in  at  a  way  station,  and  sat 
behind  him.  They  began  to  talk  about  this  man 
Lincoln. 

"  Shucks,"  said  the  clerk,  "  think  of  him  opposing  the 
Little  Giant." 

"  He's  right  smart,  Sam,"  said  the  farmer.  "  He's  got 
a  way  of  sayin'  things  that's  clear.  We  boys  can  foller 
him.  But  Steve  Douglas,  he  only  mixes  you  up." 

His  companion  guffawed. 

" Because  why?"  he  shouted.  "  Because  you  ain't  had 
no  education.  What  does  a  rail-splitter  like  Abe  know 
about  this  government?  Judge  Douglas  has  worked  it 
all  out.  He's  smart.  Let  the  territories  take  care  of 
themselves.  Besides,  Abe  ain't  got  no  dignity.  The 
fust  of  this  week  I  seen  him  side-tracked  down  the  road 
here  in  a  caboose,  while  Doug  went  by  in  a  special." 

"Abe  is  a  plain  man,  Sam,"  the  farmer  answered  sol 
emnly.  "  But  you  watch  out  for  him." 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  Stephen  descended  at  his  des 
tination.  Merciful  night  hid  from  his  view  the  forlorn 


128  THE   CRISIS 

station  and  the  ragged  town.  The  baggage  man  told  him 
that  Mr.  Lincoln  was  at  the  tavern. 

That  tavern  !  Will  words  describe  the  impression  it 
made  on  a  certain  young  man  from  Boston !  It  was  long 
and  low  and  ramshackly,  and  hot  that  night  as  the  inside 
of  a  brick-kiln.  As  he  drew  near  it  on  the  single  plank 
walk  over  the  black  prairie-mud,  he  saw  countrymen 
and  politicians  swarming  its  narrow  porch  and  narrower 
hall.  Discussions  in  all  keys  were  in  progress,  and  it 
was  with  vast  difficulty  that  our  distracted  young  man 
pushed  through  and  found  the  landlord.  This  personage 
was  the  coolest  of  the  lot.  Confusion  was  but  food  for 
his  smiles,  importunity  but  increased  his  suavity.  And 
of  the  seeming  hundreds  that  pressed  him,  he  knew  and 
utilized  the  Christian  name  of  all.  From  behind  a  corner 
of  the  bar  he  held  them  all  at  bay,  and  sent  them  to  quar 
ters  like  the  old  campaigner  he  was. 

"  Now,  Ben,  tain't  no  use  gettin'  mad.  You,  and  Josh- 
way,  an'  Will,  an'  Sam,  an'  the  Cap'n,  an'  the  four  Beaver 
brothers,  will  all  sleep  in  number  ten.  What's  that, 
Franklin?  No,  sirree,  the  Honerable  Abe,  and  Mister 
Hill,  and  Jedge  Oglesby  is  sleepin'  in  seven."  The  smell 
of  perspiration  was  stifling  as  Stephen  pushed  up  to  the 
master  of  the  situation.  "What's  that?  Supper,  young 
man  ?  Ain't  you  had  no  supper  ?  Gosh,  I  reckon  if  you 
can  fight  your  way  to  the  dinin'  room,  the  gals'll  give 
you  some  pork  and  a  cup  of  coffee." 

After  a  preliminary  scuffle  with  a  drunken  countryman 
in  mud-caked  boots,  Mr.  Brice  presently  reached  the 
long  table  in  the  dining-room.  A  sense  of  humor  not 
quite  extinct  made  him  smile  as  he  devoured  pork  chops 
and  greasy  potatoes  and  heavy  apple  pie..  As  he  was 
finishing  the  pie,  he  became  aware  of  the  tavern  keeper 
standing  over  him. 

"  Are  you  one  of  them  flip  Chicagy  reporters  ?  "  asked 
that  worthy,  with  a  suspicious  eye  on  Stephen's  clothes. 

Our  friend  denied  this. 

"  You  didn't  talk  jest  like  'em.  Guess  you'll  be  here 
to-night." 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN  129 

"  Yes,"  said  Stephen,  wearily.  And  he  added,  out  of 
force  of  habit,  "  Can  you  give  me  a  room  ?  " 

"  I  reckon,"  was  the  cheerful  reply.  "  Number  ten. 
There  ain't  nobody  in  there  but  Ben  Billings,  and  the 
four  Beaver  brothers,  an'  three  more.  I'll  have  a  shake 
down  for  ye  next  the  north  window." 

Stephen's  thanks  for  the  hospitality  perhaps  lacked 
heartiness.  But  perceiving  his  host  still  contemplating 
him,  he  was  emboldened  to  say  :  — 

"  Has  Mr.  Lincoln  gone  to  bed  ?  " 

"Who?  Old  Abe,  at  half -past  ten?  Wai,  I  reckon 
you  don't  know  him." 

Stephen's  reflections  here  on  the  dignity  of  the  Sena 
torial  candidate  of  the  Republican  Party  in  Illinois  were 
novel,  at  any  rate.  He  thought  of  certain  senators  he  had 
seen  in  Massachusetts. 

"  The  only  reason  he  ain't  down  here  swappin'  yarns 
with  the  boys,  is  because  he's  havin'  some  sort  of  confab 
with  the  Jedge  and  Joe  Medill  of  the  Gliicagy  Press  and 
Tribune." 

"  Do  you  think  he  would  see  me  ? "  asked  Stephen, 
eagerly.  He  was  emboldened  by  the  apparent  lack  of 
ceremony  of  the  candidate.  The  landlord  looked  at  him 
in  some  surprise. 

"  Wai,  I  reckon.  Jest  go  up  an'  knock  at  the  door  of 
number  seven,  and  say  Tom  WT right  sent  ye." 

"  How  shall  I  know  Mr.  Lincoln  ?  "  asked  Stephen. 

"  Pick  out  the  ugliest  man  in  the  room.  There  ain't 
nobody  I  kin  think  of  uglier  than  Abe." 

Bearing  in  mind  this  succinct  description  of  the  candi 
date,  Stephen  climbed  the  rickety  stairs  to  the  low  second 
story.  All  the  bedroom  doors  were  flung  open  except 
one,  on  which  the  number  7  was  inscribed.  From  within 
came  bursts  of  uproarious  laughter,  and  a  summons  to 
enter. 

He  pushed  open  the  door,  and  as  soon  as  his  eyes  became 
accustomed  to  the  tobacco  smoke,  he  surveyed  the  room. 
There  was  a  bowl  on  the  floor,  the  chair  where  it  belonged 
being  occupied.  There  was  a  very  inhospitable-looking  bed, 


130  THE   CKISIS 

two  shake-downs,  and  four  Windsor  chairs  in  more  or  less 
state  of  dilapidation  —  all  occupied  likewise.  A  country 
glass  lamp  was  balanced  on  a  rough  shelf,  and  under  it  a 
young  man  sat  absorbed  in  making  notes,  and  apparently 
oblivious  to  the  noise  around  him.  Every  gentleman  in 
the  room  was  collarless,  coatless,  tieless,  and  vestless. 
Some  were  engaged  in  fighting  gnats  and  June  bugs,  while 
others  battled  with  mosquitoes  —  all  save  the  young  man 
who  wrote,  he  being  wholly  indifferent. 

Stephen  picked  out  the  homeliest  man  in  the  room. 
There  was  no  mistaking  him.  And,  instead  of  a  discus 
sion  of  the  campaign  with  the  other  gentlemen,  Mr.  Lin 
coln  was  defending  —  what  do  you  think?  Mr.  Lincoln 
was  defending  an  occasional  and  judicious  use  of  swear 
words. 

"  Judge,"  said  he,  "  you  do  an  almighty  lot  of  cuss 
ing  in  your  speeches,  and  perhaps  it  ain't  a  bad  way  to 
keep  things  stirred  up." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Judge,  "  a  fellow  will  rip  out  some 
thing  once  in  a  while  before  he  has  time  to  shut  it  off." 

Mr.  Lincoln  passed  his  fingers  through  his  tousled  hair. 
His  thick  lower  lip  crept  over  in  front  of  the  upper  one. 
A  gleam  stirred  in  the  deep-set  gray  eyes. 

"  Boys,"  he  asked,  "  did  I  ever  tell  you  about  Sam'l,  the 
old  Quaker's  apprentice  ?  " 

There  was  a  chorus  of  "  No's  "  and  "  Go  ahead,  Abe  !  " 
The  young  man  who  was  writing  dropped  his  pencil.  As 
for  Stephen,  this  long,  uncouth  man  of  the  plains  was 
beginning  to  puzzle  him.  The  face,  with  its  crude  fea 
tures  and  deep  furrows,  relaxed  into  intense  soberness. 
And  Mr.  Lincoln  began  his  story  with  a  slow  earnestness 
that  was  truly  startling,  considering  the  subject. 

"  This  apprentice,  Judge,  was  just  such  an  incurable  as 
you."  (Laughter.)  "And  Sam'l,  when  he  wanted  to,  could 
get  out  as  many  cusses  in  a  second  as  his  anvil  shot  sparks. 
And  the  old  man  used  to  wrastle  with  him  nights  and 
speak  about  punishment,  and  pray  for  him  in  meeting. 
But  it  didn't  do  any  good.  When  anything  went  wrong, 
Sam'l  had  an  appropriate  word  for  the  occasion.  One 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN  131 

day  the  old  man  got  an  inspiration  when  he  was  scratch 
ing  around  in  the  dirt  for  an  odd-sized  iron. 

"  '  Sam'l,'  says  he,  4  I  want  thee.' 

"  Sam'l  went,  and  found  the  old  man  standing  over  a 
big  rat  holey  where  the  rats  came  out  to  feed  on  the 
scraps. 

"'  Sam'l,'  says  he,  '  fetch  the  tongs.' 

"  Sam'l  fetched  the  tongs. 

" '  Now,  Sam'l,'  says  the  old  man,  '  thou  wilt  sit  here 
until  thou  hast  a 'rat.  Never  mind  thy  dinner.  And 
when  thou  hast  him,  if  I  hear  thee  swear,  thou  wilt  sit 
here  until  thou  hast  another.  Dost  thou  mind  ?  ' ' 

Here  Mr.  Lincoln  seized  two  cotton  umbrellas,  rasped 
his  chair  over  the  bare  floor  into  a  corner  of  the  room,  and 
sat  hunched  over  an  imaginary  rat  hole,  for  all  the  world 
like  a  gawky  Quaker  apprentice.  And  this  was  a  candi 
date  for  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  who  on  the 
morrow  was  to  meet  in  debate  the  renowned  and  polished 
Douglas  ! 

"  Well,"  Mr.  Lincoln  continued,  "  that  was  on  a  Mon 
day,  I  reckon,  and  the  boys  a-shouting  to  have  their 
horses  shod.  Maybe  you  think  they  didn't  have  some  fun 
with  Sam'l.  But  Sam'l  sat  there,  and  sat  there,  and  sat 
there,  and  after  a  while  the  old  man  pulled  out  his  dinner- 
pail.  Sam'l  never  opened  his  mouth.  First  thing  you 
know,  snip  went  the  tongs."  Mr.  Lincoln  turned  gravely 
around.  "  What  do  you  reckon  Sam'l  said,  Judge  ?  " 

The  Judge,  at  random,  summoned  up  a  good  one,  to 
the  delight  of  the  audience. 

"  Judge,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  with  solemnity,  "  I  reckon 
that's  what  you'd  have  said.  Sam'l  never  said  a  word, 
and  the  old  man  kept  on  eating  his  dinner.  One  o'clock 
came,  and  the  folks  began  to  drop  in  again,  but  Sam'l,  he 
sat  there.  'Long  towards  night  the  boys  collected  'round 
the  door.  They  were  getting  kind  of  interested.  Sam'l, 
he  never  looked  up."  Here  Mr.  Lincoln  bent  forward  a 
little,  and  his  voice  fell  to  a  loud,  drawling  whisper. 
u  First  thing  you  know,  here  come  the  whiskers  peeping 
up,  then  the  pink  eyes  a-blinking  at  the  forge,  then  —  !  " 


132  THE   CRISIS 

Suddenly  he  brought  the    umbrellas   together  with    a 
whack. 

" '  By  God,'  yells  Sam'l,  c  I  have  thee  at  last ! ' ' 
Amid  the  shouts,  Mr.  Lincoln  stood  up,  his  long  body 
swaying  to  and  fro  as  he  lifted  high  the  improvised  tongs. 
They  heard  a  terrified  squeal,  and  there  was  the  rat  squirm 
ing  and  wriggling,  —  it  seemed  before  their  very  eyes. 
And  Stephen  forgot  the  country  tavern,  the  country  politi 
cian,  and  was  transported  straightway  into  the  Quaker's 
smithy. 


CHAPTER   III 

IN   WHICH    STEPHEN   LEARNS   SOMETHING 

IT  was  Mr.  Lincoln  who  brought  him  back.  The 
astonishing  candidate  for  the  Senate  had  sunk  into  his 
chair,  his  face  relaxed  into  sadness  save  for  the  sparkle 
lurking  in  the  eyes.  So  he  sat,  immobile,  until  the 
laughter  had  died  down  to  silence.  Then  he  turned  to 
Stephen. 

"  Sonny,"  he  said,  "  did  you  want  to  see  me?" 

Stephen  was  determined  to  be  affable  and  kind,  and 
(shall  we  say  it?)  he  would  not  make  Mr.  Lincoln  uncom 
fortable  either  by  a  superiority  of  English  or  the  certain 
frigidity  of  manner  which  people  in  the  West  said  he  had. 
But  he  tried  to  imagine  a  Massachusetts  senator,  Mr.  Sum- 
ner,  for  instance,  going  through  the  rat  story,  and  couldn't. 
Somehow,  Massachusetts  senators  hadn't  this  gift.  And 
yet  he  was  not  quite  sure  that  it  wasn't  a  fetching  gift. 
Stephen  did  not  quite  like  to  be  called  "  Sonny."  But  he 
looked  into  two  gray  eyes,  and  at  the  face,  and  something 
curious  happened  to  him.  How  was  he  to  know  that 
thousands  of  his  countrymen  were  to  experience  the  same 
sensation  ? 

"  Sonny,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln  again,  "  did  you  want  to  see 


me 


9" 


"Yes,  sir."  Stephen  wondered  at  the  "sir."  It  had 
been  involuntary.  He  drew  from  his  inner  pocket  the 
envelope  which  the  Judge  had  given  him. 

Mr.  Lincoln  ripped  it  open.  A  document  fell  out,  and 
a  letter.  He  put  the  document  in  his  tall  hat,  which  was 
upside  down  on  the  floor.  As  he  got  deeper  into  the 
letter,  he  pursed  his  mouth,  and  the  lines  of  his  face  deep 
ened  in  a  smile.  Then  he  looked  up,  grave  again. 

133 


134  THE   CRISIS 

"  Judge  Whipple  told  you  to  run  till  you  found  me,  did 
he,  Mr.  Brice  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Is  the  Judge  the  same  old  criss-cross,  contrary,  violent 
fool  that  he  always  was  ?  " 

Providence  put  an  answer  in  Stephen's  mouth. 

"  He's  been  very  good  to  me,  Mr.  Lincoln." 

Mr.  Lincoln  broke  into  laughter. 

"  Why,  he's  the  biggest-hearted  man  I  know.  You 
know  him,  Oglesby,  —  Silas  Whipple.  But  a  man  has  to 
be  a  Daniel  or  a  General  Putnam  to  venture  into  that  den 
of  his.  There's  only  one  man  in  the  world  who  can  beard 
Silas,  and  he's  the  finest  states-right  Southern  gentleman 
you  ever  saw.  I  mean  Colonel  Carvel.  You've  heard  of 
him,  Oglesby.  Don't  they  quarrel  once  in  a  while,  Mr. 
Brice?" 

"  They  do  have  occasional  arguments,"  said  Stephen, 
amused. 

"  Arguments  !  "  cried  Mr.  Lincoln  ;  "  well,  I  couldn't 
come  as  near  to  fighting  every  day  and  stand  it.  If  my 
dog  and  Bill's  dog  across  the  street  walked  around  each 
other  and  growled  for  half  a  day,  and  then  lay  down 
together,  as  Carvel  and  Whipple  do,  by  Jing,  I'd  put 
pepper  on  their  noses  — 

"  I  reckon  Colonel  Carvel  isn't  a  fighting  man,"  said 
some  one,  at  random. 

Strangely  enough,  Stephen  was  seized  with  a  desire  to 
vindicate  the  Colonel's  courage.  Both  Mr.  Lincoln  and 
Judge  Oglesby  forestalled  him. 

"  Not  a  fighting  man  !  "  exclaimed  the  Judge.  "  Why, 
the  other  day  —  " 

"  Now,  Oglesby,"  put  in  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  I  wanted  to  tell 
that  story." 

Stephen  had  heard  it,  and  so  have  we.  But  Mr.  Lin 
coln's  imitation  of  the  Colonel's  drawl  brought  him  a 
pang  like  homesickness. 

"  '  No,  suh,  I  didn't  intend  to  shoot.  Not  if  he  had  gone 
off  straight.  But  he  wriggled  and  twisted  like  a  rattle 
snake,  and  I  just  couldn't  resist,  suh.  Then  I  sent  my 


STEPHEN   LEARNS   SOMETHING  135 

nigger  Epbum  to  tell  him  not  to  let  me  catch  sight  of  him 
'round  the  Planters'  House.  Yes,  suh,  that's  what  he 
was.  One  of  these  damned  Yankees  who  come  South  and 
go  into  nigger-deals  and  politics.'' 

Mr.  Lincoln  glanced  at  Stephen,  and  then  again  at  the 
Judge's  letter.  He  took  up  his  silk  hat  and  thrust  that, 
too,  into  the  worn  lining,  which  was  already  filled  with 
papers.  He  clapped  the  hat  on  his  head,  and  buttoned 
on  his  collar. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  go  for  a  walk,  boys,"  he  said,  "and  clear 
my  head,  so  as  to  be  ready  for  the  Little  Giant  to-morrow 
at  Freeport.  Mr.  Brice,  do  you  feel  like  walking  ?  " 

Stephen,  taken  aback,  said  that  he  did. 

"  Now,  Abe,  this  is  just  durned  foolishness,"  one  of 
the  gentlemen  expostulated.  "  We  want  to  know  if 
you're  going  to  ask  Douglas  that  question." 

"  If  you  do,  you  kill  yourself,  Lincoln,"  said  another, 
whom  Stephen  afterwards  learned  was  Mr.  Medill,  pro 
prietor  of  the  great  Press  and  Tribune. 

"  I  guess  I'll  risk  it,  Joe,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  gravely. 
Suddenly  comes  the  quiver  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth, 
and  the  gray  eyes  respond.  "  Boys,"  said  he,  "  did  you 
ever  hear  the  story  of  farmer  Bell,  down  in  Egypt?  I'll 
tell  it  to  you,  boys,  and  then  perhaps  you'll  know  why 
I'll  ask  Judge  Douglas  that  question.  Farmer  Bell  had 
the  prize  Bartlett  pear  tree,  and  the  prettiest  gal  in  that 
section.  And  he  thought  about  the  same  of  each  of  'em. 
All  the  boys  were  after  Sue  Bell.  But  there  was  only 
one  who  had  any  chance  of  getting  her,  and  his  name  was 
Jim  Rickets.  Jim  was  the  handsomest  man  in  that  sec 
tion.  He's  been  hung  since.  But  Jim  had  a  good  deal 
out  of  life,  —  all  the  appetites,  and  some  of  the  gratifica 
tions.  He  liked  Sue,  and  he  liked  a  luscious  Bartlett. 
And  he  intended  to  have  both.  And  it  just  so  happened 
that  that  prize  pear  tree  had  a  whopper  on  that  year,  and 
old  man  Bell  couldn't  talk  of  anything  else. 

"  Now  there  was  an  ugly  galoot  whose  name  isn't  worth 
mentioning.  He  knew  he  wasn't  in  any  way  fit  for  Sue, 
and  he  liked  pears  about  as  well  as  Jim  Rickets.  Well, 


136  THE   CRISIS 

one  night  here  comes  Jim  along  the  road,  whistling, 
to  court  Susan,  and  there  was  the  ugly  galoot  a-yearning 
on  the  bank  under  the  pear  tree.  Jim  was  all  fixed  up, 
and  he  says  to  the  galoot,  4  Let's  have  a  throw.'  Now 
the  galoot  knew  old  Bell  was  looking  over  the  fence. 
So  he  says,  '  All  right,'  and  he  gives  Jim  the  first  shot. 
Jim  fetched  down  the  big  pear,  got  his  teeth  in  it,  and 
strolled  off  to  the  house,  kind  of  pitiful  of  the  galoot  for 
a  half-witted  ass.  When  he  got  to  the  door,  there  was 
the  old  man.  *  What  are  you  here  for  ?  '  says  he.  4  Why,' 
says  Rickets,  in  his  off-hand  way,  for  he  always  had 
great  confidence,  '  to  fetch  Sue.' ' 

"  The  old  man  used  to  wear  brass  toes  to  keep  his  boots 
from  wearing  out,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  dreamily. 

"  You  see,"  continued  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  you  see  the  galoot 
knew  that  Jim  Rickets  wasn't  to  be  trusted  with  Susan 
Bell." 

Some  of  the  gentlemen  appeared  to  see  the  point  of 
this  political  parable,  for  they  laughed  uproariously.  The 
others  laughed,  too.  Then  they  slapped  their  knees, 
looked  at  Mr.  Lincoln's  face,  which  was  perfectly  sober, 
and  laughed  again,  a  little  fainter.  Then  the  Judge 
looked  as  solemn  as  his  title. 

"It  won't  do,  Abe,"  said  he.     "  You  commit  suicide." 

"  You'd  better  stick  to  the  pear,  Abe,"  said  Mr.  Medill, 
"  and  fight  Stephen  A.  Douglas  here  and  now.  This  isn't 
any  picnic.  Do  you  know  who  he  is  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  Joe,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  amiably.  "  He's  a 
man  with  tens  of  thousands  of  blind  followers.  It's  my 
business  to  make  some  of  those  blind  followers  see." 

By  this  time  Stephen  was  burning  to  know  the  question 
that  Mr.  Lincoln  wished  to  ask  the  Little  Giant,  and  why 
the  other  gentlemen  were  against  it.  But  Mr.  Lincoln 
surprised  him  still  further  in  taking  him  by  the  arm. 
Turning  to  the  young  reporter,  Mr.  Hill,  who  had  finished 
his  writing,  he  said  :  — 

"  Bob,  a  little  air  will  do  you  good.  I've  had  enough  of 
the  old  boys  for  a  while,  and  I'm  going  to  talk  to  somebody 
my  own  age." 


STEPHEN   LEARNS   SOMETHING  137 

Stephen  was  halfway  down  the  corridor  when  he  dis 
covered  that  he  had  forgotten  his  hat.  As  he  returned  he 
heard  somebody  say  :  — 

"  If  that  ain't  just  like  Abe.  He  stopped  to  pull  a  flea 
out  of  his  stocking  when  he  was  going  to  fight  that  duel 
with  Shields,  and  now  he's  walking  with  boys  before  a 
debate  with  the  smartest  man  in  this  country.  And 
there's  heaps  of  things  he  ought  to  discuss  with  us." 

"  Reckon  we  haven't  got  much  to  do  with  it,"  said 
another,  half  laughing,  half  rueful.  "  There's  some  things 
Abe  won't  stand." 

From  the  stairs  Stephen  saw  Mr.  Lincoln  threading  his 
way  through  the  crowd  below,  laughing  at  one,  pausing  to 
lay  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  another,  and  replying  to  a 
rough  sally  of  a  third  to  make  the  place  a  tumult  of  guf 
faws.  But  none  had  the  temerity  to  follow  him.  When 
Stephen  caught  up  with  him  in  the  little  country  street, 
he  was  talking  earnestly  to  Mr.  Hill,  the  young  reporter 
of  the  Press  and  Tribune.  And  what  do  you  think  was  the 
subject?  The  red  comet  in  the  sky  that  night.  Stephen 
kept  pace  in  silence  with  Mr.  Lincoln's  strides,  another 
shock  in  store  for  him.  This  rail-splitter,  this  postmaster, 
this  flat-boatman,  whom  he  had  not  credited  with  a  knowl 
edge  of  the  New  Code,  was  talking  Astronomy.  And 
strange  to  say,  Mr.  Brice  was  learning. 

"Bob,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "can  you  elucidate  the  prob 
lem  of  the  three  bodies  ?  " 

To  Stephen's  surprise,  Mr.  Hill  elucidated. 

The  talk  then  fell  upon  novels  and  stories,  a  few  of 
which  Mr.  Lincoln  seemed  to  have  read.  He  spoke,  among 
others,  of  the  "Gold  Bug."  "The  story  is  grand,"  said 
he,  "  but  it  might  as  well  have  been  written  of  Robinson 
Crusoe's  island.  What  a  fellow  wants  in  a  book  is  to 
know  where  he  is.  There  are  not  many  novels,  or  ancient 
works  for  that  matter,  that  put  you  down  anywhere." 

"  There  is  that  genuine  fragment  which  Cicero  has  pre 
served  from  a  last  work  of  Aristotle,"  said  Mr.  Hill, 
slyly.  "  '  If  there  were  beings  who  lived  in  the  depths  of 
the  earth,  and  could  emerge  through  the  open  fissures, 


138  THE   CRISIS 

and  could  suddenly  behold  the  earth,  the  sea,  and  the 
vault  of  heaven  —  '  ' 

"  But  you  —  you  impostor,"  cried  Mr.  Lincoln,  inter 
rupting,  "you're  giving  us  Humboldt's  Cosmos." 

Mr.  Hill  owned  up,  laughing. 

It  is  remarkable  how  soon  we  accustom  ourselves  to  a 
strange  situation.  And  to  Stephen  it  was  no  less  strange 
to  be  walking  over  a  muddy  road  of  the  prairie  with  this 
most  singular  man  and  a  newspaper  correspondent,  than 
it  might  have  been  to  the  sub-terrestrial  inhabitant  to 
emerge  on  the  earth's  surface.  Stephen's  mind  was  in 
the  process  of  a  chemical  change :  Suddenly  it  seemed  to 
him  as  if  he  had  known  this  tall.  Illinoisan  always.  The 
whim  of  the  senatorial  candidate  in  choosing  him  for  a 
companion  he  did  not  then  try  to  account  for. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Stephen,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  presently, 
"  where  do  you  hail  from  ?  " 

"  Boston,"  said  Stephen. 

"No!"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  incredulously.  "And  how 
does  it  happen  that  you  come  to  me  with  a  message  from 
a  rank  Abolitionist  lawyer  in  St.  Louis  ?  " 

"  Is  the  Judge  a  friend  of  yours,  sir  ?  "  Stephen  asked. 

"  What  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  didn't  he  tell  you 
he  was?" 

"  He  said  nothing  at  all,  sir,  except  to  tell  me  to 
travel  until  I  found  you." 

"  I  call  the  Judge  a  friend  of  mine,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln. 
"  He  may  not  claim  me  because  I  do  not  believe  in  putting 
all  slave-owners  to  the  sword." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  Judge  Whipple  is  precisely  an 
Abolitionist,  sir." 

"  What  !     And  how  do  you  feel,  Mr.  Stephen  ?  " 

Stephen  replied  in  figures.  It  was  rare  with  him,  and 
he  must  have  caught  it  from  Mr.  Lincoln. 

"I  am  not  for  ripping  out  the  dam  suddenly,  sir. 
That  would  drown  the  nation.  I  believe  that  the  water 
can  be  drained  off  in  some  other  way." 

Mr.  Lincoln's  direct  answer  to  this  was  to  give  Stephen 
a  stinging  slap  between  the  shoulder-blades. 


STEPHEN   LEARNS   SOMETHING  139 

"  God  bless  the  boy  !  "  he  cried.  "  He  has  thought  it 
out.  Bob,  take  that  down  for  the  Press  and  Tribune  as 
coming  from  a  rising  young  politician  of  St.  Louis." 

44  Why,"  Stephen  blurted  out,  "I  —  I  thought  you 
were  an  Abolitionist,  Mr.  Lincoln." 

44  Mr.  Brice,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  44 1  have  as  much  use 
for  the  Boston  Liberator  as  I  have  for  the  Charleston 
Courier.  You  may  guess  how  much  that  is.  The  ques 
tion  is  not  whether  we  shall  or  shall  not  have  slavery, 
but  whether  slavery  shall  stay  where  it  is,  or  be  extended 
according  to  Judge  Douglas's  ingenious  plan.  The  Judge 
is  for  breeding  worms.  I  am  for  cauterizing  the  sore  so 
that  it  shall  not  spread.  But  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Brice,  that 
this  nation  cannot  exist  half  slave  and  half  free." 

Was  it  the  slap  on  the  back  that  opened  Stephen's 
eyes?  It  was  certain  that  as  they  returned  to  the  tavern 
the  man  at  his  side  was  changed.  He  need  not  have  felt 
chagrined.  Men  in  high  places  underestimated  Lincoln, 
or  did  not  estimate  him  at  all.  Affection  came  first. 
The  great  warm  heart  had  claimed  Stephen  as  it  claimed 
all  who  came  near  it. 

The  tavern  was  deserted  save  for  a  few  stragglers. 
Under  the  dim  light  at  the  bar  Mr.  Lincoln  took  off  his 
hat  and  drew  the  Judge's  letter  from  the  lining. 

44  Mr.  Stephen,"  said  he,  44  would  you  like  to  come  to 
Freeport  with  me  to-morrow  and  hear  the  debate  ?  " 

An  hour  earlier  he  would  have  declined  with  thanks. 
But  now  !  Now  his  face  lighted  at  the  prospect,  and 
suddenly  fell  again.  Mr.  Lincoln  guessed  the  cause. 
He  laid  his  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder,  and 
laughed. 

44 1  reckon  you're  thinking  of  what  the  Judge  will  say." 

Stephen  smiled. 

44  I'll  take  care  of  the  Judge,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln.  44  I'm 
not  afraid  of  him."  He  drew  forth  from  the  inexhaust 
ible  hat  a  slip  of  paper,  and  began  to  write. 

44  There,"  said  he,  when  he  had  finished,  44  a  friend  of 
mine  is  going  to  Springfield  in  the  morning,  and  he'll 
send  that  to  the  Judge." 


140  THE   CRISIS 

And  this  is  what  he  had  written  :  — 

"  I  have  borrowed  Steve  for  a  day  or  two,  and  guarantee  to 
return  him  a  good  Republican. 

"A.  LINCOLN." 

It  is  worth  remarking  that  this  was  the  first  time  Mr. 
Brice  had  been  called  "  Steve  "  and  had  not  resented  it. 

Stephen  was  embarrassed.  He  tried  to  thank  Mr. 
Lincoln,  but  that  gentleman's  quizzical  look  cut  him 
short.  And  the  next  remark  made  him  gasp. 

"  Look  here,  Steve,"  said  he,  "  you  know  a  parlor  from 
a  drawing-room.  What  did  you  think  of  me  when  you 
saw  me  to-night  ?  " 

Stephen  blushed  furiously,  and  his  tongue  clave  to  the 
roof  of  his  mouth. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  with  his  characteristic 
smile,  "  you  thought  that  you  wouldn't  pick  me  out  of  a 
bunch  of  horses  to  race  with  the  Senator." 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE    QUESTION 

MANY  times  since  Abraham  Lincoln  has  been  called  to 
that  mansion  which  God  has  reserved  for  the  patriots 
who  have  served  Him  also,  Stephen  Brice  has  thought  of 
that  steaming  night  in  the  low-ceiled  room  of  the  coun 
try  tavern,  reeking  with  the  smell  of  coarse  food  and  hot 
humanity.  He  remembers  vividly  how  at  first  his  gorge 
rose,  and  recalls  how  gradually  there  crept  over  him  a 
forgetfulness  of  the  squalidity  and  discomfort.  Then 
came  a  space  gray  with  puzzling  wonder.  Then  the 
dawning  of  a  worship  for  a  very  ugly  man  in  a  rumpled 
and  ill-made  coat. 

You  will  perceive  that  there  was  hope  for  Stephen.  On 
his  shake-down  that  night,  oblivious  to  the  snores  of  his 
companions  and  the  droning  of  the  insects,  he  lay  awake. 
And  before  his  eyes  was  that  strange,  marked  face,  with 
its  deep  lines  that  blended  both  humor  and  sadness  there. 
It  was  homely,  and  yet  Stephen  found  himself  reflecting 
that  honesty  was  just  as  homely,  and  plain  truth.  And 
yet  both  were  beautiful  to  those  who  had  learned  to  love 
them.  Just  so  this  Mr.  Lincoln. 

He  fell  asleep  wondering  why  Judge  Whipple  had  sent 
him. 

It  was  in  accord  with  nature  that  reaction  came  with 
the  morning.  Such  a  morning,  and  such  a  place  ! 

He  was  awakened,  shivering,  by  the  beat  of  rain  on  the 
roof,  and  stumbling  over  the  prostrate  forms  of  the  four 
Beaver  brothers,  reached  the  window.  Clouds  filled  the 
sky,  and  Joshway,  whose  pallet  was  under  the  sill,  was 
in  a  blessed  state  of  moisture. 

No  wonder  some  of  his  enthusiasm  had  trickled  away  J 

141 


142  THE   CRISIS 

He  made  his  toilet  in  the  wet  under  the  pump  outside, 
where  he  had  to  wait  his  turn.  And  he  rather  wished  he 
were  going  back  to  St.  Louis.  He  had  an  early  breakfast 
of  fried  eggs  and  underdone  bacon,  and  coffee  which 
made  him  pine  for  Hester's.  The  dishes  were  neither  too 
clean  nor  too  plentiful,  being  doused  in  water  as  soon  as 
ever  they  were  out  of  use. 

.  But  after  breakfast  the  sun  came  out,  and  a  crowd  col 
lected  around  the  tavern,  although  the  air  was  chill  and 
the  muck  deep  in  the  street.  Stephen  caught  glimpses  of 
Mr.  Lincoln  towering  above  the  knots  of  country  politi 
cians  who  surrounded  him,  and  every  once  in  a  while  a  knot 
would  double  up  with  laughter.  There  was  no  sign  that 
the  senatorial  aspirant  took  the  situation  seriously;  that 
the  coming  struggle  with  his  skilful  antagonist  was 
weighing  him  down  in  the  least.  Stephen  held  aloof 
from  the  groups,  thinking  that  Mr.  Lincoln  had  forgotten 
him.  He  decided  to  leave  for  St.  Louis  on  the  morning 
train,  and  was  even  pushing  toward  the  tavern  entrance 
with  his  bag  in  his  hand,  when  he  was  met  by  Mr.  Hill. 

"  I  had  about  given  you  up,  Mr.  Brice,"  he  said.  "  Mr. 
Lincoln  asked  me  to  get  hold  of  you,  and  bring  you  to 
him  alive  or  dead." 

Accordingly  Stephen  was  led  to  the  station,  where  a 
long  train  of  twelve  cars  was  pulled  up,  covered  with 
flags  and  bunting.  On  entering  one  of  these,  he  per 
ceived  Mr.  Lincoln  sprawled  (he  could  think  of  no  other 
word  to  fit  the  attitude)  on  a  seat  next  the  window,  and 
next  him  was  Mr.  Medill  of  the  Press  and  Tribune.  The 
seat  just  in  front  was  reserved  for  Mr.  Hill,  who  was  to 
make  any  notes  necessary.  Mr.  Lincoln  looked  up.  His 
appearance  was  even  less  attractive  than  the  night  before, 
as  he  had  on  a  dirty  gray  linen  duster. 

"  I  thought  you'd  got  loose,  Steve,"  he  said,  holding  out 
his  hand.  "  Glad  to  see  you.  Just  you  sit  down  there 
next  to  Bob,  where  I  can  talk  to  you." 

Stephen  sat  down,  diffident,  for  he  knew  that  there  were 
others  in  that  train  who  would  give  ten  years  of  their  lives 
for  that  seat. 


THE   QUESTION  143 

"  I've  taken  a  shine  to  this  Bostonian,  Joe,"  said  Mr. 
Lincoln  to  Mr.  Medill.  "  We've  got  to  catch  'em  young 
to  do  anything  with  'em,  you  know.  Now,  Steve,  just 
give  me  a  notion  how  politics  are  over  in  St.  Louis.  What 
do  they  think  of  pur  new  Republican  party  ?  Too  bran 
new  for  old  St.  Louis,  eh  ?  " 

Stephen  saw  expostulation  in  Mr.  Medill's  eyes,  and 
hesitated.  And  Mr.  Lincoln  seemed  to  feel  Medill's 
objections,  as  by  mental  telepathy.  But  he  said  :  — 

"We'll  come  to  that  little  matter  later,  Joe,  when  the 
cars  start." 

Naturally,  Stephen  began  uneasily.  But  under  the 
influence  of  that  kindly  eye  he  thawed,  and  forgot  him 
self.  He  felt  that  this  man  was  not  one  to  feign  an  inter 
est.  The  shouts  of  the  people  on  the  little  platform 
interrupted  the  account,  and  the  engine  staggered  off 
with  its  load. 

"  I  reckon  St.  Louis  is  a  nest  of  Southern  Democrats," 
Mr.  Lincoln  remarked,  "and  not  much  opposition." 

"  There  are  quite  a  few  Old  Line  Whigs,  sir,"  ventured 
Stephen,  smiling. 

"  Joe,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  did  you  ever  hear  Warfield's 
definition  of  an  Old  Line  Whig?" 

Mr.  Medill  had  not. 

"  A  man  who  takes  his  toddy  regularly,  and  votes  the  Dem 
ocratic  ticket  occasionally,  and  who  wears  ruffled  shirts." 

Both  of  these  gentlemen  laughed,  and  two  more  in  the 
seat  behind,  who  had  an  ear  to  .the  conversation. 

"  But,  sir,"  said  Stephen,  seeing  that  he  was  expected 
to  go  on,  "  I  think  that  the  Republican  party  will  gather 
a  considerable  strength  there  in  another  year  or  two.  We 
have  the  material  for  powerful  leaders  in  Mr.  Blair  and 
others  "  (Mr.  Lincoln  nodded  at  the  name).  "We  are  get 
ting  an  ever  increasing  population  from  New  England, 
mostly  of  young  men  who  will  take  kindly  to  the  new 
party."  And  then  he  added,  thinking  of  his  pilgrimage 
the  Sunday  before :  "  South  St.  Louis  is  a  solid  mass  of 
Germans,  who  are  all  antislavery.  But  they  are  very 
foreign  still,  and  have  all  their  German  institutions." 


144  THE   CRISIS 

"The  Turner  Halls?"  Mr.  Lincoln  surprised  him  by 
inquiring. 

"  Yes.     And  I  believe  that  they  drill  there." 

"  Then  they  will  the  more  easily  be  turned  into  soldiers, 
if  the  time  should  come,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln.  And  he 
added  quickly,  "  I  pray  that  it  may  not." 

Stephen  had  cause  to  remember  that  observation,  and 
the  acumen  it  showed,  long  afterward. 

The  train  made  several  stops,  and  at  each  of  them 
shoals  of  country  people  filled  the  aisles,  and  paused  for 
a  most  familiar  chat  with  the  senatorial  candidate.  Many 
called  him  Abe.  His  appearance  was  the  equal  in  rough 
ness  to  theirs,  his  manner  if  anything  was  more  demo 
cratic,  —  yet  in  spite  of  all  this  Stephen  in  them  detected 
a  deference  which  might  almost  be  termed  a  homage. 
There  were  many  women  among  them.  Had  our  friend 
been  older,  he  might  have  known  that  the  presence  of 
good  women  in  a  political  crowd  portends  something. 
As  it  was,  he  was  surprised.  He  was  destined  to  be  still 
more  surprised  that  day. 

When  they  had  left  behind  them  the  shouts  of  the  little 
town  of  Dixon,  Mr.  Lincoln  took  off  his  hat,  and  produced 
a  crumpled  and  not  too  immaculate  scrap  of  paper  from 
the  multitude  therein. 

tk  Now,  Joe,"  said  he,  "  here  are  the  four  questions  I 
intend  to  ask  Judge  Douglas.  I  am  ready  for  you.  Fire 
away." 

"  We  don't  care  anything  about  the  others,"  answered 
Mr.  Medill.  "  But  I  tell  you  this.  If  you  ask  that  sec 
ond  one,  you'll  never  see  the  United  States  Senate." 

"  And  the  Republican  party  in  this  state  will  have  had 
a  blow  from  which  it  can  scarcely  recover,"  added  Mr. 
Judd,  chairman  of  the  committee. 

Mr.  Lincoln  did  not  appear  to  hear  them.  His  eyes 
were  far  away  over  the  wet  prairie. 

Stephen  held  his  breath.  But  neither  he,  nor  Medill, 
nor  Judd,  nor  Hill  guessed  at  the  pregnancy  of  that 
moment.  How  were  they  to  know  that  the  fate  of  the 
United  States  of  America  was  concealed  in  that  Question, 


THE   QUESTION  145 

—  was  to  be  decided  on  a  rough  wooden  platform  that 
day  in  the  town  of  Freeport,  Illinois  ? 

But  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  uncouth  man  in  the  linen 
duster  with  the  tousled  hair,  knew  it.  And  the  stone 
that  was  rejected  of  the  builders  was  to  become  the  cor 
ner-stone  of  the  temple. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Lincoln  recalled  himself,  glanced  at  the 
paper,  and  cleared  his  throat.  In  measured  tones,  plainly 
heard  above  the  rush  and  roar  of  the  train,  he  read  the 
Question  :  — 

"  Can  the  people  of  a  United  States  Territory,  in  any 
lawful  way*  against  the  wish  of  any  citizen  of  the  United 
States^  exclude  slavery  from  its  limits  prior  to  the  formation 
of  a  State  Constitution?1'1 

Mr.  Medill  listened  intently. 

"  Abe,"  said  he,  solemnly,  "  Douglas  will  answer  yes,  or 
equivocate,  and  that  is  all  the  assurance  these  Northern 
Democrats  want  to  put  Steve  Douglas  in  the  Senate. 
They'll  snow  you  under." 

"  All  right,"  answered  Mr.  Lincoln,  quietly. 

"  4  All  right '  f  "  asked  Mr.  Medill,  reflecting  the  sheer 
astonishment  of  the  others ;  "  then  why  the  devil  are  you 
wearing  yourself  out  ?  And  why  are  we  spending  our 
time  and  money  on  you?  " 

Mr.  Lincoln  laid  his  hand  on  Medill's  sleeve. 

"  Joe,"  said  he,  "  a  rat  in  the  larder  is  easier  to  catch 
than  a  rat  that  has  the  run  of  the  cellar.  You  know 
where  to  set  your  trap  in  the  larder.  I'll  tell  you  why 
I'm  in  this  campaign  :  to  catch  Douglas  now,  and  keep 
him  out  of  the  White  House  in  1860.  To  save  this 
country  of  ours,  Joe.  She's  sick." 

There  was  a  silence,  broken  by  two  exclamations. 

"  But  see  here,  Abe,"  said  Mr.  Medill,  as  soon  as  ever 
he  got  his  breath,  "  what  have  we  got  to  show  for  it  ? 
Where  do  you  come  in?  " 

Mr.  Lincoln  smiled  wearily. 

"Nowhere,  I  reckon,"  he  answered  simply. 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  said  Mr.  Judd. 

Mr.  Medill  gulped. 


146  THE   CRISIS 

"  You  mean  to  say,  as  the  candidate  of  the  Republican 
party,  you  don't  care  whether  you  get  to  the  Senate  ?  " 

"  Not  if  I  can  send  Steve  Douglas  there  with  his  wings 
broken,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

"  Suppose  he  does  answer  yes,  that  slavery  can  be  ex 
cluded?"  said  Mr.  Judd. 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  then  Douglas  loses  the 
vote  of  the  great  slave-holders,  the  vote  of  the  solid 
South,  that  he  has  been  fostering  ever  since  he  has  had 
the  itch  to  be  President.  Without  the  solid  South  the 
Little  Giant  will  never  live  in  the  White  House.  And 
unless  I'm  mightily  mistaken,  Steve  Douglas  has  had  his 
eye  as  far  ahead  as  1860  for  some  time." 

Another  silence  followed  these  words.  There  was  a 
stout  man  standing  in  the  aisle,  and  he  spat  deftly  out 
of  the  open  window. 

"  You  may  wing  Steve  Douglas,  Abe,"  said  he,  gloomily, 
"  but  the  gun  will  kick  you  over  the  bluff." 

"  Don't  worry  about  me,  Ed,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln.  "  I'm 
not  worth  it." 

In  a  wave  of  comprehension  the  significance  of  all  this 
was  revealed  to  Stephen  Brice.  The  grim  humor,  the 
sagacious  statesmanship,  and  (best  of  all)  the  superb  self- 
sacrifice  of  it,  struck  him  suddenly.  I  think  it  was  in 
that  hour  that  he  realized  the  full  extent  of  the  wisdom 
he  was  near,  which  was  like  unto  Solomon's. 

Shame  surged  in  Stephen's  face  that  he  should  have 
misjudged  him.  He  had  come  to  patronize.  He  had 
remained  to  worship.  And  in  after  years,'  when  he 
thought  of  this  new  vital  force  which  became  part  of  him 
that  day,  it  was  in  the  terms  of  Emerson :  "  Pj^thagoras 
was  misunderstood,  and  Socrates,  and  Jesus,  and  Luther, 
and  Copernicus,  and  Galileo,  and  Newton,  and  every  pure 
and  wise  spirit  that  ever  took  flesh.  To  be  great  is  to  be 
misunderstood." 

How  many  have  conversed  with  Lincoln  before  and 
since,  and  knew  him  not  ! 

If  an  outward  and  visible  sign  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  great 
ness  were  needed,  —  he  had  chosen  to  speak  to  them  in 


THE   QUESTION  147 

homely  parables.  The  story  of  Farmer  Bell  was  plain  as 
day.  Jim  Rickets,  who  had  life  all  his  own  way,  was 
none  other  than  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  the  easily  success 
ful.  The  ugly  galoot,  who  dared  to  raise  his  eyes  only  to 
the  pear,  was  Mr.  Lincoln  himself.  And  the  pear  was  the 
Senatorship,  which  the  galoot  had  denied  himself  to  save 
Susan  from  being  Mr.  Rickets'  bride. 

Stephen  could  understand  likewise  the  vehemence  of 
the  Republican  leaders  who  crowded  around  their  candi 
date  and  tried  to  get  him  to  retract  that  Question.  He 
listened  quietly,  he  answered  with  a  patient  smile.  Now 
and  then  he  threw  a  story  into  the  midst  of  this  discussion 
which  made  them  laugh  in  spite  of  themselves.  The  hope 
lessness  of  the  case  was  quite  plain  to  Mr.  Hill,  who 
smiled,  and  whispered  in  Stephen's  ear  :  — 

"  He  has  made  up  his  mind.  They  will  not  budge  him 
an  inch,  and  they  know  it." 

Finally  Mr.  Lincoln  took  the  scrap  of  paper,  which  was 
even  more  dirty  and  finger-marked  by  this  time,  and 
handed  it  to  Mr.  Hill.  The  train  was  slowing  down  for 
Freeport.  In  the  distance,  bands  could  be  heard  playing, 
and  along  the  track,  line  upon  line  of  men  and  women 
were  cheering  and  waving.  It  was  ten  o'clock,  raw  and 
cold  for  that  time  of  the  year,  and  the  sun  was  trying  to 
come  out. 

"  Bob,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  be  sure  you  get  that  right 
in  your  notes.  And,  Steve,  you  stick  close  to  me,  and 
you'll  see  the  show.  Why,  boys,"  he  added,  smiling, 
¥t  there's  the  great  man's  private  car,  cannon  and  all." 

All  that  Stephen  saw  was  a  regular  day-car  on  a  side 
track.  A  brass  cannon  was  on  the  tender  hitched  behind  it. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE    CRISIS 

STEPHEN  A.  DOUGLAS,  called  the  Little  Giant  on 
account  of  his  intellect,  was  a  type  of  man  of  which  our 
race  has  had  some  notable  examples,  although  they  are  not 
characteristic.  Capable  of  sacrifice  to  their  country,  per 
sonal  ambition  is,  nevertheless,  the  mainspring  of  their 
actions.  They  must  either  be  before  the  public,  or  else 
unhappy.  This  trait  gives  them  a  large  theatrical  strain, 
and  sometimes  brands  them  as  adventurers.  Their  ability 
saves  them  from  being  demagogues. 

In  the  case  of  Douglas,  he  had  deliberately  renewed 
some  years  before  the  agitation  on  the  spread  of  slavery,  by 
setting  forth  a  doctrine  of  extreme  cleverness.  This  doc 
trine,  like  many  others  of  its  kind,  seemed  at  first  sight  to 
be  the  balm  it  pretended,  instead  of  an  irritant,  as  it  really 
was.  It  was  calculated  to  deceive  all  except  thinking 
men,  and  to  silence  all  save  a  merciless  logician.  And  this 
merciless  logician,  who  was  heaven-sent  in  time  of  need, 
was  Abraham  Lincoln. 

Mr.  Douglas  was  a  juggler,  a  political  prestidigitateur. 
He  did  things  before  the  eyes  of  the  Senate  and  the  nation. 
His  balm  for  the  healing  of  the  nation's  wounds  was  a 
patent  medicine  so  cleverly  concocted  that  experts  alone 
could  show  what  was  in  it.  So  abstruse  and  twisted  were 
some  of  Mr.  Douglas's  doctrines  that  a  genius  alone  might 
put  them  into  simple  words,  for  the  common  people. 

The  great  panacea  for  the  slavery  trouble  put  forth  by 
Mr.  Douglas  at  that  time  was  briefly  this  :  that  the  peo 
ple  of  the  new  territories  should  decide  for  themselves, 
subject  to  the  Constitution,  whether  they  should  have 
slavery  or  not,  and  also  decide  for  themselves  all  other 

148 


THE   CRISIS  149 

Siestions  under  the  Constitution.  Unhappily  for  Mr. 
ouglas,  there  was  the  famous  Dred  Scott  decision,  which 
had  set  the  South  wild  with  joy  the  year  before,  and  had 
cast  a  gloom  over  the  North.  The  Chief  Justice  of  the 
United  States  had  declared  that  under  the  Constitution 
slaves  were  property,  —  and  as  such  every  American  citi 
zen  owning  slaves  could  carry  them  about  with  him  where- 
ever  he  went.  Therefore  the  territorial  legislatures  might 
pass  laws  until  they  were  dumb,  and  yet  their  settlers 
might  bring  with  them  all  the  slaves  they  pleased. 

And  yet  we  must  love  the  Judge.  He  was  a  gentleman, 
a  strong  man,  and  a  patriot.  He  was  magnanimous,  and 
to  his  immortal  honor  be  it  said  that  he,  in  the  end,  won 
the  greatest  of  all  struggles.  He  conquered  himself.  He 
put  down  that  mightiest  thing  that  was  in  him,  —  his 
ambition  for  himself.  And  he  set  up,  instead,  his  ambi 
tion  for  his  country.  He  bore  no  ill-will  toward  the  man 
whose  fate  was  so  strangely  linked  to  his,  and  who  finally 
came  to  that  high  seat  of  honor  and  of  martyrdom  which  he 
coveted.  We  shall'  love  the  Judge,  and  speak  of  him  with 
reverence,  for  that  sublime  act  of  kindness  before  the  Capi 
tol  in  1861. 

Abraham  Lincoln  might  have  prayed  on  that  day  of 
the  Freeport  debate :  "  Forgive  him,  Lord.  He  knows 
not  what  he  does. "  Lincoln  descried  the  danger  afar, 
and  threw  his  body  into  the  breach. 

That  which  passed  before  Stephen's  eyes,  and  to  which 
his  ears  listened  at  Freeport,  was  the  Great  Republic 
pressing  westward  to  the  Pacific.  He  wondered  whether 
some  of  his  Eastern  friends  who  pursed  their  lips  when 
the  West  was  mentioned  would  have  sneered  or  prayed. 
A  young  English  nobleman  who  was  there  that  day  did 
not  sneer.  He  was  filled  instead  with  something  like  awe 
at  the  vigor  of  this  nation  which  was  sprung  from  the 
loins  of  his  own.  Crudeness  he  saw,  vulgarity  he  heard, 
but  Force  he  felt,  and  marvelled. 

America  was  in  Freeport  that  day,  the  rush  of  her  peo 
ple  and  the  surprise  of  her  climate.  The  rain  had  ceased, 


150  THE   CRISIS 

and  quickly  was  come  out  of  the  northwest  a  boisterous 
wind,  chilled  by  the  lakes  and  scented  by  the  hemlocks 
of  the  Minnesota  forests.  The  sun  smiled  and  frowned. 
Clouds  hurried  in  the  sky,  mocking  the  human  hubbub 
below.  Cheering  thousands  pressed  about  the  station  as 
Mr.  Lincoln's  train  arrived.  They  hemmed  him  in  his 
triumphal  passage  under  the  great  arching  trees  to  the 
new  Brewster  House.  The  Chief  Marshal  and  his  aides, 
great  men  before,  were  suddenly  immortal.  The  county 
delegations  fell  into  their  proper  precedence  like  minis 
ters  at  a  state  dinner.  "  We  have  faith  in  Abraham,  Yet 
another  County  for  the  Rail-splitter,  Abe  the  G-iant-killer" 
—  so  the  banners  read.  Here,  much  bedecked,  was  the 
G-alena  Lincoln  Club,  part  of  Joe  Davies's  shipment. 
Fifes  skirled,  and  drums  throbbed,  and  the  stars  and 
stripes  snapped  in  the  breeze.  And  here  was  a  delega 
tion  headed  by  fifty  sturdy  ladies  on  horseback,  at  whom 
Stephen  gaped  like  a  countryman.  Then  came  carryalls 
of  all  ages  and  degrees,  wagons  from  this  county  and  that 
county,  giddily  draped,  drawn  by  horses  from  one  to  six, 
or  by  mules,  their  inscriptions  addressing  their  senatorial 
candidate  in  all  degrees  of  familiarity,  but  not  contempt. 
What  they  seemed  proudest  of  was  that  he  had  been  a 
rail-splitter,  for  nearly  all  bore  a  fence-rail. 

But  stay,  what  is  this  wagon  with  the  high  sapling 
flagstaff  in  the  middle,  and  the  leaves  still  on  it  ? 

"  Westward  the  Star  of  Empire  lakes  its  way. 

The  girls  link  on  to  Lincoln  ;  their  mothers  were  for  Clay." 

Here  was  glory  to  blind  you,  —  two  and  thirty  maids  in 
red  sashes  and  blue  liberty  caps  with  white  stars.  Each 
was  a  state  of  the  Union,  and  every  one  of  them  was 
for  Abraham,  who  called  them  his  "Basket  of  Flowers." 
Behind  them,  most  touching  of  all,  sat  a  thirty-third  shac 
kled  in  chains.  That  was  Kansas.  Alas,  the  mien  of 
Kansas  was  far  from  being  as  sorrowful  as  the  part 
demanded,  —  in  spite  of  her  instructions  she  would  smile 
at  the  boys.  But  the  appealing  inscription  she  bore,  "  Set 
me  free  !  "  was  greeted  with  storms  of  laughter,  the  boldest 


THE   CRISIS  151 

of  the  young  men  shouting  that  she  was  too  beautiful  to 
be  free,  and  some  of  the  old  men,  to  their  shame  be  it  said, 
likewise  shouted.  No  false  embarrassment  troubled  Kan 
sas.  She  was  openly  pleased.  But  the  young  men  who 
had  brought  their  sweethearts  to  town,  and  were  standing 
hand  in  hand  with  them,  for  obvious  reasons  saw  nothing. 
They  scarcely  dared  to  look  at  Kansas,  and  those  who  did 
were  so  loudly  rebuked  that  they  turned  down  the  side 
streets. 

During  this  part  of  the  day  these  loving  couples,  whose 
devotion  was  so  patent  to  the  whole  world,  were  by  far 
the  most  absorbing  to  Stephen.  He  watched  them  having 
their  fortunes  told,  the  young  women  blushing  and  crying, 
"  Say  !  "  and  "  Ain't  he  wicked  ?  "  and  the  young  men  get 
ting  their  ears  boxed  for  certain  remarks.  He  watched 
them  standing  open-mouthed  at  the  booths  and  side  shows, 
with  hands  still  locked,  or  again  they  were  chewing  cream 
candy  in  unison.  Or  he  glanced  sidewise  at  them,  seated 
in  the  open  places  with  the  world  so  far  below  them  that 
even  the  insistent  sound  of  the  fifes  and  drums  rose  but 
faintly  to  their  ears. 

And  perhaps,  —  we  shall  not  say  positively,  —  perhaps 
Mr.  Brice's  thoughts  went  something  like  this,  "  O  that 
love  were  so  simple  a  matter  to  all !  "  But  graven  on  his 
face  was  what  .is  called  the  u  Boston  scorn."  And  no  scorn 
has  been  known  like  unto  it  since  the  days  of  Athens. 

So  Stephen  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  the  Brewster 
House,  the  elegance  and  newness  of  which  the  citizens  of 
Freeport  openly  boasted.  Mr.  Lincoln  had  preceded  him, 
and  was  even  then  listening  to  a  few  remarks  of  burning 
praise  by  an  honorable  gentleman.  Mr,  Lincoln  himself 
made  a  few  remarks,  which  seemed  so  simple  and  rang  so 
true,  and  were  so  free  from  political  rococo  and  decoration 
generally,  that  even  the  young  men  forgot  their  sweet 
hearts  to  listen.  Then  Mr.  Lincoln  went  into  the  hotel, 
and  the  sun  slipped  under  a  black  cloud. 

The  lobby  was  full,  and  rather  dirty,  since  the  supply 
of  spittoons  was  so  far  behind  the  dema'hd.  Like  the  fir 
mament,  it  was  divided  into  little  bodies  which  revolved 


152  THE   CRISIS 

about  larger  bodies.  But  there  lacked  not  here  supporters 
of  the  Little  Giant,  and  discreet  farmers  of  influence  in 
their  own  counties  who  waited  to  hear  the  afternoon's 
debate  before  deciding.  These  and  others  did  not  hesitate 
to  tell  of  the  magnificence  of  the  Little  Giant's  torchlight 
procession  the  previous  evening.  Every  Dred-Scottite  had 
carried  a  torch,  and  many  transparencies,  so  that  the  very 
glory  of  it  had  turned  night  into  day.  The  Chief  Lictor 
had  distributed  these  torches  with  an  unheard-of  liberality. 
But  there  lacked  not  detractors  who  swore  that  John  Dib 
ble  and  other  Lincolnites  had  applied  for  torches  for  the 
mere  pleasure  of  carrying  them.  Since  dawn  the  delega 
tions  had  been  heralded  from  the  house-tops,  and  wagered 
on  while  they  were  yet  as  worms  far  out  on  the  prairie. 
All  the  morning  these  continued  to  come  in,  and  form  in 
line  to  march  past  their  particular  candidate.  The  second 
great  event  of  the  day  was  the  event  of  the  special  over 
the  Galena  road,  of  sixteen  cars  and  more  than  a  thousand 
pairs  of  sovereign  lungs.  With  military  precision  they 
repaired  to  the  Brewster  House,  and  ahead  of  them  ,a 
banner  was  flung :  "  Winnebago  County  for  the  Tall 
Sucker."  And  the  Tall  Sucker  was  on  the  steps  to  receive 
them. 

But  Mr.  Douglas,  who  had  arrived  the  evening  before 
to  the  booming  of  two  and  thirty  guns,  had  his  banners 
and  his  bunting,  too.  The  neighborhood  of  Freeport  was 
a  stronghold  of  Northern  Democrats,  ardent  supporters  of 
the  Little  Giant  if  once  they  could  believe  that  he  did  not 
intend  to  betray  them. 

Stephen  felt  in  his  bones  the  coming  of  a  struggle,  and 
was  thrilled.  Once  he  smiled  at  the  thought  that  he  had 
become  an  active  partisan  —  nay,  a  worshipper  —  of  the  un 
couth  Lincoln.  Terrible  suspicion  for  a  Bostonian, — had 
he  been  carried  away  ?  Was  his  hero,  after  all,  a  homespun 
demagogue  ?  Had  he  been  wise  in  deciding  before  he  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  accomplished  Douglas,  whose  name 
and  fame  filled  the  land  ?  Stephen  did  not  waver  in  his 
allegiance.  But  in  his  heart  there  lurked  a  fear  of  the 
sophisticated  Judge  and  Senator  and  man  of  the  world 


THE   CRISIS  153 

whom  he  had  not  yet  seen.  In  his  note-book  he  had  made 
a  copy  of  the  Question,  and  young  Mr.  Hill  discovered  him 
pondering  in  a  corner  of  the  lobby  at  dinner-time.  After 
dinner  they  went  together  to  their  candidate's  room.  They 
found  the  doors  open  and  the  place  packed,  and  there  was 
Mr.  Lincoln's  very  tall  hat  towering  above  those  of  the 
other  politicians  pressed  around  him.  Mr.  Lincoln  took 
three  strides  in  Stephen's  direction  and  seized  him  by 
the  shoulder. 

"  Why,  Steve,"  said  he,  "  I  thought  you  had  got  away 
again."  Turning  to  a  big  burly  man  with  a  good-natured 
face,  who  was  standing  by,  he  added  :  "  Jim,  I  want  you  to 
look  out  for  this  young  man.  Get  him  a  seat  on  the  stand, 
where  he  can  hear." 

Stephen  stuck  close  to  Jim.  He  never  knew  what  the 
gentleman's  last  name  was,  or  whether  he  had  any.  It 
was  but  a  few  minutes'  walk  to  the  grove  where  the  speak 
ing  was  to  be.  And  as  they  made  their  way  thither  Mr. 
Lincoln  passed  them  in  a  Conestoga  wagon  drawn  by  six 
milk-white  horses.  Jim  informed  Stephen  that  the  Little 
Giant  had  had  a  six-horse  coach.  The  grove  was  black 
with  people.  Hovering  about  the  hem  of  the  crowd  were 
the  sunburned  young  men  in  their  Sunday  best,  still 
clinging  fast  to  the  hands  of  the  young  women.  Bands 
blared  "  Columbia,  Gem  of  the  Ocean."  Fakirs  planted 
their  stands  in  the  way,  selling  pain-killers  and  ague  cures, 
watermelons  and  lemonade.  Jugglers  juggled,  and  beg 
gars  begged.  Jim  said  that  there  were  sixteen  thousand 
people  in  that  grove.  And  he  told  the  truth. 

Stephen  now  trembled  for  his  champion.  He  tried  to 
think  of  himself  as  fifty  years  old,  with  the  courage  to 
address  sixteen  thousand  people  on  such  a  day,  and 
quailed.  What  a  man  of  affairs  it  must  take  to  do  that  ! 
Sixteen  thousand  people,  into  each  of  whose  breasts  God 
had  put  different  emotions  and  convictions  !  He  had 
never  even  imagined  such  a  crowd  as  this  assembled 
merely  to  listen  to  a  political  debate.  But  then  he  re 
membered,  as  they  dodged  from  in  front  of  the  horses, 
that  it  was  not  merely  a  political  debate.  The  pulse  of  a 


154  THE   CRISIS 

nation  was  here,  a  great  nation  stricken  with  approach 
ing  fever.  It  was  not  now  a  case  of  excise,  but  of  exist 
ence. 

This  son  of  toil  who  had  driven  his  family  thirty  miles 
across  the  prairie,  blanketed  his  tired  horses  and  slept  on 
the  ground  the  night  before,  who  was  willing  to  stand  all 
through  the  afternoon  and  listen  with  pathetic  eagerness 
to  this  debate,  must  be  moved  by  a  patriotism  divine.  In 
the  breast  of  that  farmer,  in  the  breast  of  his  tired  wife 
who  held  her  child  by  the  hand,  had  been  instilled  from 
birth  that  sublime  fervor  which  is  part  of  their  life  who 
inherit  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Instinctively 
these  men  who  had  fought  and  won  the  West  had  scented 
the  danger.  With  the  spirit  of  their  ancestors  who  had 
left  their  farms  to  die  on  the  bridge  at  Concord,  or 
follow  Ethan  Allen  into  Ticonderoga,  these  had  come  to 
Freeport.  What  were  three  days  of  bodily  discomfort  ! 
What  even  the  loss  of  part  of  a  cherished  crop,  if  the 
nation's  existence  were  at  stake  and  their  votes  might 
save  it ! 

In  the  midst  of  that  heaving  human  sea  rose  the  bul 
warks  of  a  wooden  stand.  But  how  to  reach  it  ?  Jim 
was  evidently  a  personage.  The  rough  farmers  commonly 
squeezed  a  way  for  him.  And  when  they  did  not,  he 
made  it  with  his  big  body.  As  they  drew  near  their 
haven,  a  great  surging  as  of  a  tidal  wave  swept  them  off 
their  feet.  There  was  a  deafening  shout,  and  the  stand 
rocked  on  its  foundations.  Before  Stephen  could  collect 
his  wits,  a  tierce  battle  was  raging  about  him.  Abolition 
ist  and  Democrat,  Free  Soiler  and  Squatter  Sov,  defaced 
one  another  in  a  rush  for  the  platform.  The  committee- 
men  and  reporters  on  top  of  it  rose  to  its  defence.  Well 
for  Stephen  that  his  companion  was  along.  Jim  was 
recognized  and  hauled  bodily  into  the  fort,  and  Stephen 
after  him.  The  populace  were  driven  off,  and  when 
the  excitement  died  down  again,  he  found  himself  in 
the  row  behind  the  reporters.  Young  Mr.  Hill  paused 
while  sharpening  his  pencil  to  wave  him  a  friendly 
greeting. 


THE   CRISIS  155 

Stephen,  craning  in  his  seat,  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Lincoln 
slouched  into  one  of  his  favorite  attitudes,  his  chin  resting 
in  his  hand. 

But  who  is  this,  erect,  compact,  aggressive,  searching 
with  a  confident  eye  the  wilderness  of  upturned  faces  ? 
A  personage,  truly,  to  be  questioned  timidly,  to  be 
approached  advisedly.  Here  indeed  was  a  lion,  by  the 
very  look  of  him,  master  of  himself  and  of  others.  By 
reason  of  its  regularity  and  masculine  strength,  a  hand 
some  face.  A  man  of  the  world  to  the  cut  of  the  coat 
across  the  broad  shoulders.  Here  was  one  to  lift  a 
youngster  into  the  realm  of  emulation,  like  a  character 
in  a  play,  to  arouse  dreams  of  Washington  and  its  senators 
and  great  men.  For  this  was  one  to  be  consulted  by  the 
great  alone.  A  figure  of  dignity  and  power,  with  mag 
netism  to  compel  moods.  Since,  when  he  smiled,  you 
warmed  in  spite  of  yourself,  and  when  he  frowned  the 
world  looked  grave. 

The  inevitable  comparison  was  come,  and  Stephen's 
hero  was  shrunk  once  more.  He  drew  a  deep  breath, 
searched  for  the  word,  and  gulped.  There  was  but  the 
one  word.  How  country  Abraham  Lincoln  looked  beside 
Stephen  Arnold  Douglas  ! 

Had  the  Lord  ever  before  made  and  set  over  against 
each  other  two' such  different  men?  Yes,  for  such  are  the 

ways  of  the  Lord. 

********* 

The  preliminary  speaking  was  in  progress,  but  Stephen 
neither  heard  nor  saw  until  he  felt  the  heavy  hand  of  his 
companion  on  his  knee. 

"There's  something  mighty  strange,  like  fate,  between 
them  two,"  he  was  saying.  "I  recklect  twenty-five  years 
ago  when  they  was  first  in  the  Legislatur'  together.  A 
man  told  me  that  they  was  both  admitted  to  practice  in 
the  S'preme  Court  in  '39,  on  the  same  day,  sir.  Then  you 
know  they  was  nip  an'  tuck  after  the  same  young  lady. 
Abe  got  her.  They've  been  in  Congress  together,  the 
Little  Giant  in  the  Senate,  and  now,  here  they  be  in  the 
greatest  set  of  debates  the  people  of  this  state  ever  heard. 


156  THE   CRISIS 

Young  man,  the  hand  of  fate  is  in  this  here,  mark  my 
words  —  " 

There  was  a  hush,  and  the  waves  of  that  vast  human 
sea  were  stilled.  A  man,  —  lean,  angular,  with  coat-tails 
flapping  —  unfolded  like  a  grotesque  figure  at  a  side-show. 
No  confidence  was  there.  Stooping  forward,  Abraham 
Lincoln  began  to  speak,  and  Stephen  Brice  hung  his  head, 
and  shuddered.  Could  this  shrill  falsetto  be  the  same 
voice  to  which  he  had  listened  only  that  morning?  Could 
this  awkward,  yellow  man  with  his  hands  behind  his  back 
be  he  whom  he  had  worshipped?  Ripples  of  derisive 
laughter  rose  here  and  there,  on  the  stand  and  from  the 
crowd.  Thrice  distilled  was  the  agony  of  those  moments ! 

Bat  what  was  this  feeling  that  gradually  crept  over 
him  ?  Surprise  ?  Cautiously  he  raised  his  eyes.  The 
hands  were  coming  around  to  the  front.  Suddenly  one 
of  them  was  thrown  sharply  back,  with  a  determined  ges 
ture,  the  head  was  raised,  —  and  —  and  his  shame  was  for 
gotten.  In  its  stead  wonder  was  come.  But  soon  he  lost 
even  that,  for  his  mind  was  gone  on  a  journey.  And 
when  again  he  came  to  himself  and  looked  upon  Abraham 
Lincoln,  this  was  a  man  transformed.  The  voice  was  no 
longer  shrill.  Nay,  it  w^as  now  a  powerful  instrument 
which  played  strangely  on  those  who  heard.  Now  it  rose, 
and  again  it  fell  into  tones  so  low  as  to  start  a  stir  which 
spread  and  spread,  like  a  ripple  in  a  pond,  until  it  broke 
on  the  very  edge  of  that  vast  audience. 

"  Can  the  people  of  a  United  States  Territory,  in  any  law 
ful  way,  against  the  wish  of  any  citizen  of  the  United  States, 
exclude  slavery  from  its  limits  prior  to  the  formation  of  a 
State  Constitution?" 

It  was  out,  at  last,  irrevocably  writ  in  the  recording  book 
of  History,  for  better,  for  worse.  Beyond  the  reach  of 
politician,  committee,  or  caucus.  But  what  man  amongst 
those  who  heard  and  stirred  might  say  that  these  minutes 
even  now  hasting  into  eternity  held  the  Crisis  of  a  nation 
that  is  the  hope  of  the  world  ?  Not  you,  Judge  Douglas, 
who  sit  there  smiling.  Consternation  is  a  stranger  in 
your  heart,  —  but  answer  that  Question  if  you  can.  Yes, 


THE   CRISIS  157 

your  nimble  wit  has  helped  you  out  of  many  a  tight  cor 
ner.  You  do  not  feel  the  noose  —  as  yet.  You  do  not 
guess  that  your  reply  will  make  or  mar  the  fortunes  of 
your  country.  It  is  not  you  who  can  look  ahead  two  short 
years  and  see  the  ship  of  Democracy  splitting  on  the  rocks 
at  Charleston  and  at  Baltimore,  when  the  power  of  your 
name  might  have  steered  her  safely. 

But  see  !  what  is  this  man  about  whom  you  despise  ? 
One  by  one  he  is  taking  the  screws  out  of  the  engine 
which  you  have  invented  to  run  your  ship.  Look,  he 
holds  them  in  his  hands  without  mixing  them,  and  shows 
the  false  construction  of  its  secret  parts. 

For  Abraham  Lincoln  dealt  with  abstruse  questions  in 
language  so  limpid  that  many  a  farmer,  dulled  by  toil, 
heard  and  understood  and  marvelled.  The  simplicity  of 
the  Bible  dwells  in  those  speeches,  and  they  are  now  clas 
sics  in  our  literature.  And  the  wonder  in  Stephen's  mind 
was  that  this  man  who  could  be  a  buffoon,  whose  speech 
was  coarse  and  whose  person  unkempt,  could  prove  him 
self  a  tower  of  morality  and  truth.  That  has  troubled 
many  another,  before  and  since  the  debate  at  Freeport. 

That  short  hour  came  all  too  quickly  to  an  end.  And 
as  the  Moderator  gave  the  signal  for  Mr.  Lincoln,  it  was 
Stephen's  big  companion  who  snapped  the  strain,  and 
voiced  the  sentiment  of  those  about  him. 

"  By  Gosh  !  "  he  cried,  "  he  baffles  Steve.  I  didn't  think 
Abe  had  it  in  him." 

The  Honorable  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  however,  seemed 
anything  but  baffled  as  he  rose  to  reply.  As  he  waited 
for  the  cheers  which  greeted  him  to  die  out,  his  atti 
tude  was  easy  and  indifferent,  as  a  public  man's  should 
be.  The  Question  seemed  not  to  trouble  him  in  the  least. 
But  for  Stephen  Brice  the  Judge  stood  there  stripped  of 
the  glamour  that  made  him,  even  as  Abraham  Lincoln  had 
stripped  his  doctrine  of  its  paint  and  colors,  and  left  it 
punily  naked. 

Standing  up,  the  very  person  of  the  Little  Giant  was 
contradictory,  as  was  the  man  himself.  His  height  was 
insignificant.  But  he  had  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a 


158  THE   CRISIS 

lion,  and  even  the  lion's  roar.  What  a  contrast  the  ring 
of  his  deep  bass  to  the  tentative  falsetto  of  Mr.  Lincoln's 
opening  words  !  If  Stephen  expected  the  Judge  to  tremble, 
he  was  greatly  disappointed.  Mr.  Douglas  was  far  from 
dismay.  As  if  to  show  the  people  how  lightly  he  held 
his  opponent's  warnings,  he  made  them  gape  by  putting 
things  down  Mr.  Lincoln's  shirt-front  and  taking  them 
out  of  his  mouth.  But  it  appeared  to  Stephen,  listening 
with  all  his  might,  that  the  Judge  was  a  trifle  more  on 
the  defensive  than  his  attitude  might  lead  one  to  expect. 
Was  he  not  among  his  own  Northern  Democrats  at  Free- 
port?  And  yet  it  seemed  to  give  him  a  keen  pleasure 
to  call  his  hearers  " Black  Republicans."  "Not  black," 
came  from  the  crowd  again  and  again,  and  once  a  man 
shouted,  "  Couldn't  you  modify  it  and  call  it  brown  ? " 
"  Not  a  whit  !  "  cried  the  Judge,  and  dubbed  them  "  Yan 
kees,"  although  himself  a  Vermonter  by  birth.  He  implied 
that  most  of  these  Black  Republicans  desired  negro 
wives. 

But  quick,  —  to  the  Question.  How  was  the  Little 
Giant,  artful  in  debate  as  he  was,  to  get  over  that  without 
offence  to  the  great  South?  Very  skilfully  the  Judge 
disposed  of  the  first  of  the  interrogations.  And  then, 
save  for  the  gusts  of  wind  rustling  the  trees,  the  grove 
might  have  been  empty  of  its  thousands,  such  was  the 
silence  that  fell.  But  tighter  and  tighter  they  pressed 
against  the  stand,  until  it  trembled. 

Oh,  Judge,  the  time  of  all  artful  men  will  come  at 
length  !  How  were  you  to  foresee  a  certain  day  under 
the  White  Dome  of  the  Capitol?  Had  your  sight  been 
long,  you  would  have  paused  before  your  answer.  Had 
your  sight  been  long,  you  would  have  seen  this  ugly  Lin 
coln  bareheaded  before  the  Nation,  and  you  are  holding 
his  hat.  Judge  Douglas,  this  act  alone  has  redeemed  your 
faults.  It  has  given  you  a  nobility  of  which  we  did  not 
suspect  you.  At  the  end  God  gave  you  strength  to  be 
humble,  and  so  you  left  the  name  of  a  patriot. 

Judge,  you  thought  there  was  a  passage  between  Scylla 
and  Charybdis  which  your  craftiness  might  overcome. 


THE   CRISIS  159 

"  It  matters  not,"  you  cried  when  you  answered  the  Ques 
tion,  "  it  matters  not  which  way  the  Supreme  Court  may 
hereafter  decide  as  to  the  abstract  question  whether 
slavery  may  or  may  not  go  into  a  territory  under  the 
Constitution.  The  people  have  the  lawful  means  to  intro 
duce  or  to  exclude  it  as  they  please,  for  the  reason  that 
slavery  cannot  exist  a  day  or  an  hour  anywhere  unless  it 
is  supported  by  local  police  regulations." 

Judge  Douglas,  uneasy  will  you  lie  to-night,  fof  you 
have  uttered  the  Freeport  Heresy. 

It  only  remains  to  be  told  how  Stephen  Brice,  coming 
to  the  Brewster  House  after  the  debate,  found  Mr.  Lin 
coln.  On  his  knee,  in  transports  of  delight,  was  a  small 
boy,  and  Mr.  Lincoln  was  serenely  playing  on  the  child's 
Jew's-harp.  Standing  beside  him  was  a  proud  father  who 
had  dragged  his  son  across  two  counties  in  a  farm  wagon, 
and  who  was  to  return  on  the  morrow  to  enter  this  event 
in  the  family  Bible.  In  a  corner  of  the  room  were  sev 
eral  impatient  gentlemen  of  influence  who  wished  to  talk 
about  the  Question. 

But  when  he  saw  Stephen,  Mr.  Lincoln  looked  up  with 
a  smile  of  welcome  that  is  still,  and  ever  will  be,  remem 
bered  and  cherished. 

"Tell  Judge  Whipple  that  I  have  attended  to  that 
little  matter,  Steve,"  he  said. 

"Why,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  have  had  no 
time." 

"I  have  taken  the  time,"  Mr.  Lincoln  replied,  "and  I 
think  that  I  am  well  repaid.  Steve,"  said  he,  "  unless  I'm 
mightily  mistaken,  you  know  a  little  more  than  you  did 
yesterday." 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  do,"  said  Stephen. 

"  Come,  Steve,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  be  honest.  Didn't 
you  feel  sorry  for  me  last  night  ?  " 

Stephen  flushed  scarlet. 

"  I  never  shall  again,  sir,"  he  said. 

The  wonderful  smile,  so  ready  to  come  and  go,  flickered 
and  went  out.  In  its  stead  on  the  strange  face  was  ineffa- 


160  THE   CRISIS 

ble  sadness,  —  the  sadness  of  the  world's  tragedies.  Of 
Stephen  stoned,  of  Christ  crucified. 

"  Pray  God  that  you  may  feel  sorry  for  me  again,"  he 
said. 

Awed,  the  child  on  his  lap  was  still.  The  politicians 
had  left  the  room.  Mr.  Lincoln  had  kept  Stephen's  hand 
in  his  own. 

"  I  have  hopes  of  you,  Stephen,"  he  said.  "  Do  not  for 
get  me." 

Stephen  Brice  never  has.  Why  was  it  that  he  walked 
to  the  station  with  a  heavy  heart  ?  It  was  a  sense  of  the 
man  he  had  left,  who  had  been  and  was  to  be.  This  Lin 
coln  of  the  black  loam,  who  built  his  neighbor's  cabin  and 
hoed  his  neighbor's  corn,  who  had  been  storekeeper  and 
postmaster  and  flat-boatman.  Who  had  followed  a  rough 
judge  dealing  a  rough  justice  around  a  rough  circuit ;  who 
had  rolled  a  local  bully  in  the  dirt  ;  rescued  women  from 
insult ;  tended  the  bedside  of  many  a  sick  coward  who 
feared  the  Judgment ;  told  coarse  stories  on  barrels  by 
candlelight  (but  these  are  pure  beside  the  vice  of  great 
cities)  ;  who  addressed  political  mobs  in  the  raw,  swoop 
ing  down  from  the  stump  and  flinging  embroilers  east  arid 
west.  This  physician  who  was  one  day  to  tend  the  sick 
bed  of  the  Nation  in  her  agony  ;  whose  large  hand  was  to 
be  on  her  feeble  pulse,  and  whose  knowledge  almost  divine 
was  to  perform  the  miracle  of  her  healing.  So  was  it  that 
the  Physician  Himself  performed  His  cures,  and  when  His 
work  was  done,  died  a  Martyr. 

Abraham  Lincoln  died  in  His  name. 


CHAPTER   VI 

GLENCOE 

IT  was  nearly  noon  when  Stephen  walked  into  the  office 
the  next  day,  dusty  and  travel-worn  and  perspiring.  He 
had  come  straight  from  the  ferry,  without  going  home. 
And  he  had  visions  of  a  quiet  dinner  with  Richter  under 
the  trees  at  the  beer-garden,  where  he  could  talk  about 
Abraham  Lincoln.  Had  Richter  ever  heard  of  Lincoln? 

But  the  young  German  met  him  at  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
and  his  face  was  more  serious  than  usual,  although  he 
showed  his  magnificent  teeth  in  a  smile  of  welcome. 

"  You  are  a  little  behind  your  time,  my  friend,"  said  he. 
"  What  has  happened  you  ?  " 

"  Didn't  the  Judge  get  Mr.  Lincoln's  message  ?  "  asked 
Stephen,  with  anxiety. 

The  German  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Ah,  I  know  not,"  he  answered.  "  He  has  gone  to 
Glencoe.  The  Judge  is  ill,  Stephen.  Doctor  Polk  says 
that  he  has  worked  all  his  life  too  hard.  The  Doctor  and 
Colonel  Carvel  tried  to  get  him  to  go  to  Glencoe.  But 
he  would  not  budge  until  Miss  Carvel  herself  comes  all  the 
way  from  the  country  yesterday,  and  orders  him.  Ach  !  " 
exclaimed  Richter,  impulsively,  "  what  wonderful  women 
you  have  in  America !  I  could  lose  my  head  when  I 
think  of  Miss  Carvel." 

"Miss  Carvel  was  here,  you  say?"  Stephen  repeated,  in 
a  tone  of  inquiry. 

"Donner!"  said  Richter,  disgusted,  "you  don't  care." 

Stephen  laughed,  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  Why  should  I  ?  "  he  answered.  And  becoming  grave 
again,  added :  "  Except  on  Judge  Whipple's  account. 
Have  you  heard  from  him  to-day,  Carl  ?  " 

"  This  morning  one  of  Colonel  Carvel's  servants  came 

M  161 


162  THE   CRISIS 

for  his  letters.  He  must  be  feeling  better.  I  —  I  pray 
that  he  is  better,"  said  Richter,  his  voice  breaking.  "  He 
has  been  very  good  to  me." 

Stephen  said  nothing.  But  he  had  been  conscious  all 
at  once  of  an  affection  for  the  Judge  of  which  he  had  not 
suspected  himself.  That  afternoon,  on  his  way  home,  he 
stopped  at  Carvel  &  Company's  to  inquire.  Mr.  Whipple 
was  better,  so  Mr.  Hopper  said,  and  added  that  he  "pre 
sumed  likely  the  Colonel  would  not  be  in  for  a  week." 
It  was  then  Saturday.  Eliphalet  was  actually  in  the 
Colonel's  sanctum  behind  the  partition,  giving  orders  to 
several  clerks  at  the  time.  He  was  so  prosperous  and 
important  that  he  could  scarce  spare  a  moment  to  answer 
Stephen,  who  went  away  wondering  whether  he  had  been 
wise  to  choose  the  law. 

On  Monday,  when  Stephen  called  at  Carvel  &  Com 
pany's,  Eliphalet  was  too  busy  to  see  him.  But  Ephum, 
who  went  out  to  Glencoe  every  night  with  orders,  told 
him  that  the  "  Jedge  was  wuss,  suh."  On  Wednesday, 
there  being  little  change,  Mrs.  Brice  ventured  to  despatch 
a  jelly  by  Ephum.  On  Friday  afternoon,  when  Stephen 
was  deep  in  Whittlesey  and  the  New  Code,  he  became 
aware  of  Ephum  standing  beside  him.  In  reply  to  his 
anxious  question  Ephum  answered  :  — 

"  I  reckon  he  better,  suh.  He  an'  de  Colonel  done  com 
mence  wrastlin'  'bout  a  man  name  o'  Linkum.  De  Colonel 
done  wrote  you  dis  note,  suh." 

It  was  a  very  polite  note,  containing  the  Colonel's  com 
pliments,  asking  Mr.  Brice  to  Glencoe  that  afternoon  with 
whatever  papers  or  letters  the  Judge  might  wish  to  see. 
And  since  there  was  no  convenient  train  in  the  evening, 
Colonel  Carvel  would  feel  honored  if  Mr.  Brice  would 
spend  the  night.  The  Colonel  mentioned  the  train  on 
which  Mr.  Brice  was  expected. 

The  Missouri  side  of  the  Mississippi  is  a  very  different 
country  from  the  hot  and  treeless  prairies  of  Illinois.  As 
Stephen  alighted  at  the  little  station  at  Glencoe  and  was 
driven  away  by  Ned  in  the  Colonel's  buggy,  he  drew  in 
deep  breaths  of  the  sweet  air  of  the  Meramec  Valley. 


GLENCOE  163 

There  had  been  a  shower,  and  the  sun  glistened  on  the 
drops  on  grass  and  flowers,  and  the  great  trees  hung  heavy 
over  the  clay  road.  At  last  they  came  to  a  white  gate  in 
the  picket  fence,  in  sight  of  a  rambling  wooden  house  with 
a  veranda  in  front  covered  with  honeysuckle.  And  then 
he  saw  the  Colonel,  in  white  marseilles,  smoking  a  cigar. 
This,  indeed,  was  real  country. 

As  Stephen  trod  the  rough  flags  between  the  high  grass 
which  led  toward  the  house,  Colonel  Carvel  rose  to  his  full 
height  and  greeted  him. 

"  You  are  very  welcome,  sir,"  he  said  gravely.  "  The 
Judge  is  asleep  now,"  he  added.  "  I  regret  to  say  that  we 
had  a  little  argument  this  morning,  and  my  daughter  tells 
me  it  will  be  well  not  to  excite  him  again  to-day.  Jinny 
is  reading  to  him  now,  or  she  would  be  here  to  entertain 
you,  Mr.  Brice.  Jackson  !  "  cried  Mr.  Carvel,  "show  Mr. 
Brice  to  his  room." 

Jackson  appeared  hurriedly,  seized  Stephen's  bag,  and 
led  the  way  upstairs  through  the  cool  and  darkened  house 
to  a  pretty  little  room  on  the  south  side,  with  matting, 
and  roses  on  the  simple  dressing-table.  After  he  had  sat 
awhile  staring  at  these,  and  at  the  wet  flower-garden  from 
between  the  slats  of  his  shutters,  he  removed  the  signs  of 
the  railroad  upon  him,  and  descended.  The  Colonel  was 
still  on  the  porch,  in  his  easy-chair.  He  had  lighted  an 
other  cigar,  and  on  the  stand  beside  him  stood  two  tall 
glasses,  green  with  the  fresh  mint.  Colonel  Carvel  rose, 
and  with  his  own  hand  offered  one  to  Stephen. 

"  Your  health,  Mr.  Brice,"  he  said,  "  and  I  hope  you  will 
feel  at  home  here,  sir.  Jackson  will  bring  you  anything 
you  desire,  and  should  you  wish  to  drive,  1  shall  be  de 
lighted  to  show  you  the  country." 

Stephen  drank  that  julep  with  reverence,  and  then  the 
Colonel  gave  him  a  cigar.  He  was  quite  overcome  by  this 
treatment  of  a  penniless  young  Yankee.  The  Colonel  did 
not  talk  politics  —  such  was  not  his  notion  of  hospitality 
to  a  stranger.  He  talked  horse,  and  no  great  discernment 
on  Stephen's  part  was  needed  to  perceive  that  this  was 
Mr.  Carvel's  hobby. 


164  THE   CRISIS 

"  I  used  to  have  a  stable,  Mr.  Brice,  before  they  ruined 
gentleman's  sport  with  these  trotters  ten  years  ago.  Yes, 
sir,  we  used  to  be  at  Lexington  one  week,  and  Louisville 
the  next,  and  over  here  on  the  Ames  track  after  that. 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  Water  Witch  and  Netty  Boone?" 

Yes,  Stephen  had,  from  Mr.  Jack  Brinsmade. 

The  Colonel's  face  beamed. 

"Why,  sir,"  he  cried,  "that  very  nigger,  Ned,  who  drove 
you  here  from  the  cars  —  he  used  to  ride  Netty  Boone. 
Would  you  believe  that,  Mr.  Brice?  He  was  the  best 
jockey  ever  strode  a  horse  on  the  Elleardsville  track  here. 
He  wore  my  yellow  and  green,  sir,  until  he  got  to  weigh 
one  hundred  and  a  quarter.  And  I  kept  him  down  to  that 
weight  a  whole  year,  Mr.  Brice.  Yes,  sirree,  a  whole 
year." 

"  Kept  him  down  !  "  said  Stephen. 

"  Why,  yes,  sir.  I  had  him  wrapped  in  blankets  and  set 
in  a  chair  with  holes  bored  in  the  seat.  Then  we  lighted 
a  spirit  lamp  under  him.  Many  a  time  I  took  off  ten 
pounds  that  way.  It  needs  tire  to  get  flesh  off  a  nigger, 
sir." 

He  didn't  notice  his  guest's  amazement. 

"Then,  sir,"  he  continued,  "they  introduced  these 
damned  trotting  races ;  trotting  races  are  for  white  trash, 
Mr.  Brice." 

"  Pa  !  " 

The  Colonel  stopped  short.  Stephen  was  already  on 
his  feet.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  Miss  Virginia  Car 
vel  as  he  saw  her  then.  She  wore  a  white  lawn  dress. 
A  tea-tray  was  in  her  hand,  and  her  head  was  tilted  back, 
as  women  are  apt  to  do  when  they  carry  a  burden.  It 
was  so  that  these  Southern  families,  who  were  so  bitter 
against  Abolitionists  and  Yankees,  entertained  them 
when  they  were  poor,  and  nursed  them  when  they  were 
ill. 

Stephen,  for  his  life,  could  not  utter  a  word.  But  Vir 
ginia  turned  to  him  with  perfect  self-possession. 

"  He  has  been  boring  you  with  his  horses,  Mr.  Brice," 
she  said.  "  Has  he  told  you  what  a  jockey  Ned  used  to  be 


GLENCOE  165 

before  he  weighed  one  hundred  and  a  quarter  ?  "  (A  laugh.) 
"  Has  he  given  you  the  points  of  Water  Witch  and  Netty 
Boone?"  (More  laughter,  increasing  embarrassment  for 
Stephen.)  "Pa,  I  tell  you  once  more  that  you  will 
drive  every  guest  from  this  house.  Your  jockey  talk  is 
intolerable." 

O  that  you  might  have  a  notion  of  the  way  in  which 
Virginia  pronounced  intolerable. 

Mr.  Carvel  reached  for  another  cigar.  "  My  dear,"  he 
asked,  "how  is  the  Judge?" 

"  My  dear,"  said  Virginia,  smiling,  "  he  is  asleep. 
Mammy  Easter  is  with  him,  trying  to  make  out  what  he 
is  saying.  He  talks  in  his  sleep,  just  as  you  do  — 

"  And  what  is  he  saying  ? "  demanded  the  Colonel, 
interested. 

Virginia  set  down  the  tray. 

"  '  A  house  divided  against  itself,' "  said  Miss  Carvel,  with 
a  sweep  of  her  arm,  " '  cannot  stand.  I  believe  that  this 
Government  cannot  endure  permanently,  half  slave  and 
half  free.  I  do  not  expect  the  Union  to  dissolve  —  I  do 
not  expect  the  house  to  fall  —  but  I  do  expect  it  will  cease 
to  be  divided.'  Would  you  like  any  more?"  added  Miss 
Virginia. 

"  No,"  cried  the  Colonel,  and  banged  his  fist  down  on 
the  table.  "  Why,"  said  he,  thoughtfully,  stroking  the 
white  goatee  on  his  chin,  "  cuss  me  if  that  ain't  from  the 
speech  that  country  bumpkin,  Lincoln,  made  in  June  last 
before  the  Black  Republican  convention  in  Illinois." 

Virginia  broke  again  into  laughter.  And  Stephen  was 
very  near  it,  for  he  loved  the  Colonel.  That  gentleman 
suddenly  checked  himself  in  his  tirade,  and  turned  to  him. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said ;  "  I  reckon  that  you 
have  the  same  political  sentiments  as  the  Judge.  Believe 
me,  sir,  I  would  not  willingly  offend  a  guest." 

Stephen  smiled.  "  I  am  not  offended,  sir,"  he  said.  A 
speech  which  caused  Mr.  Carvel  to  bestow  a  quick  glance 
upon  him.  But  Stephen  did  not  see  it.  He  was  looking 
at  Virginia. 

The  Colonel  rose. 


166  THE   CRISIS 

"  You  will  pardon  my  absence  for  a  while,  sir,"  he  said. 
"My  daughter  will  entertain  you." 

In  silence  they  watched  him  as  he  strode  off  under  the 
trees  through  tall  grass,  a  yellow  setter  at  his  heels.  A 
strange  peace  was  over  Stephen.  The  shadows  of  the 
walnuts  and  hickories  were  growing  long,  and  a  rich 
country  was  giving  up  its  scent  to  the  evening  air. 
From  a  cabin  behind  the  house  was  wafted  the  melody 
of  a  plantation  song.  To  the  young  man,  after  the  burnt 
city,  this  was  paradise.  And  then  he  remembered  his 
mother  as  she  must  be  sitting  on  the  tiny  porch  in  town, 
and  sighed.  Only  two  years  ago  she  had  been  at  their  own 
place  at  Westbury. 

He  looked  up,  and  saw  the  girl  watching  him.  He 
dared  not  think  that  the  expression  he  caught  was  one  of 
sympathy,  for  it  changed  instantly. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  the  silent  kind,  Mr.  Brice,"  said 
she  ;  "  I  believe  it  is  a  Yankee  trait." 

Stephen  laughed. 

"  I  have  known  a  great  many  who  were  not,"  said  he. 
"  When  they  are  garrulous,  they  are  very  much  so." 

"  I  should  prefer  a  garrulous  one,"  said  Virginia. 

"  I  should  think  a  Yankee  were  bad  enough,  but  a  noisy 
Yankee  not  to  be  put  up  with,"  he  ventured. 

Virginia  did  not  deign  a  direct  reply  to  this,  save  by  the 
corners  of  her  mouth. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  she,  thoughtfully,  "  whether  it  is 
strength  of  mind  or  a  lack  of  ideas  that  makes  them  silent." 

"  It  is  mostly  prudence,"  said  Mr.  Brice.  "  Prudence 
is  our  dominant  trait." 

Virginia  fidgeted.     Usually  she  had  an  easier  time. 

"  You  have  not  always  shown  it,"  she  said,  with  an 
innocence  which  in  women  is  often  charged  with  meaning. 

Stephen  started.  Her  antagonism  was  still  there.  He 
would  have  liked  greatly  to  know  whether  she  referred  to 
his  hasty  purchase  of  Hester,  or  to  his  rashness  in  dancing 
with  her  at  her  party  the  winter  before. 

"  We  have  something  left  to  be  thankful  for,"  he  an 
swered.  "  We  are  still  capable  of  action." 


GLENCOE  167 

"  On  occasions  it  is  violence,"  said  Virginia,  desperately. 
This  man  must  not  get  ahead  of  her. 

"It  is  just  as  violent,"  said  he,  "as  the  repressed  feeling 
which  prompts  it." 

This  was  a  new  kind  of  conversation  to  Virginia.  Of 
all  the  young  men  she  knew,  not  one  had  ever  ventured 
into  anything  of  the  sort.  They  were  either  flippant,  or 
sentimental,  or  both.  She  was  at  once  flattered  and  an 
noyed.  Flattered,  because,  as  a  woman,  Stephen  had  con 
ceded  her  a  mind.  Many  of  the  young  men  she  knew  had 
minds,  but  deemed  that  these  were  wasted  on  women, 
whose  language  was  generally  supposed  to  be  a  kind  of 
childish  twaddle.  Even  Jack  Brinsmade  rarely  risked 
his  dignity  and  reputation  at  an  intellectual  tilt.  This 
was  one  of  Virginia's  grievances.  She  often  argued  with 
her  father,  and,  if  the  truth  were  told,  had  had  more  than 
one  victory  over  Judge  Whipple. 

Virginia's  annoyance  came  from  the  fact  that  she  per 
ceived  in  Stephen  a  natural  and  merciless  logic,  —  a  fac 
ulty  for  getting  at  the  bottom  of  things.  His  brain  did 
not  seem  to  be  thrown  out  of  gear  by  local  magnetic  influ 
ences, —  by  beauty,  for  instance.  He  did  not  lose  his 
head,  as  did  some  others  she  knew,  at  the  approach  of 
feminine  charms.  Here  was  a  grand  subject,  then,  to  try 
the  mettle  of  any  woman.  One  with  less  mettle  would 
have  given  it  up.  But  Virginia  thought  it  would  be 
delightful  to  bring  this  particular  Yankee  to  his  knees, 
and  —  and  leave  him  there. 

"  Mr.  Brice,"  she  said,  "  I  have  not  spoken  to  you  since 
the  night  of  my  party.  I  believe  we  danced  together." 

"Yes,  we  did,"  said  he,  "and  I  called,  but  was  unfortu 
nate." 

"  You  called  ?  " 

Ah,  Virginia  ! 

"  They  did  not  tell  you  !  "  cried  Stephen. 

Now  Miss  Carvel  was  complacency  itself. 

"  Jackson  is  so  careless  with  cards,"  said  she,  "  and  very 
often  I  do  not  take  the  trouble  to  read  them." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  he,  "  as  I  wished  for  the  opportunity 


168  THE   CRISIS 

to  tell  you  how  much  I  enjoyed  myself.  I  have  found 
everybody  in  St.  Louis  very  kind  to  strangers." 

Virginia  was  nearly  disarmed.  She  remembered  how 
she  had  opposed  his  coming.  But  honesty  as  well  as 
something  else  prompted  her  to  say  :  — 

"It  was  my  father  who  invited  you." 

Stephen  did  not  reveal  the  shock  his  vanity  had  received. 

"  At  least  you  were  good  enough  to  dance  with  me." 

u  I  could  scarcely  refuse  a  guest,"  she  replied. 

He  held  up  his  head. 

"  Had  I  thought  it  would  have  given  you  annoyance," 
he  said  quietly,  "I  should  not  have  asked  you." 

"  Which  would  have  been  a  lack  of  good  manners,"  said 
Virginia,  biting  her  lips. 

Stephen  answered  nothing,  but  wished  himself  in  St. 
Louis.  He  could  not  comprehend  her  cruelty.  But,  just 
then,  the  bell  rang  for  supper,  and  the  Colonel  appeared 
around  the  end  of  the  house. 

It  was  one  of  those  suppers  for  which  the  South  is  re 
nowned.  And  when  at  length  he  could  induce  Stephen  to 
eat  no  more,  Colonel  Carvel  reached  for  his  broad-brimmed 
felt  hat,  and  sat  smoking,  with  his  feet  against  the  mantle. 
Virginia,  who  had  talked  but  little,  disappeared  with  a 
tray  on  which  she  had  placed  with  her  own  hands  some 
dainties  to  tempt  the  Judge. 

The  Colonel  regaled  Stephen,  when  she  was  gone,  with 
the  pedigree  and  performance  of  every  horse  he  had  had 
in  his  stable.  And  this  was  a  relief,  as  it  gave  him  an 
opportunity  to  think  without  interruption  upon  Virginia's 
pronounced  attitude  of  dislike.  To  him  it  was  inconceiv 
able  that  a  young  woman  of  such  qualities  as  she  appeared 
to  have,  should  assail  him  so  persistently  for  freeing  a 
negress,  and  so  depriving  her  of  a  maid  she  had  set  her 
heart  upon.  There  were  other  New  England  young  men 
in  society.  Mr.  Weston  and  Mr.  Carpenter,  and  more. 
They  were  not  her  particular  friends,  to  be  sure.  But 
they  called  on  her  and  danced  with  her,  and  she  had  shown 
them  not  the  least  antipathy.  But  it  was  to  Stephen's 
credit  that  he  did  not  analyze  further. 


GLENCOE  169 

He  was  reflecting  on  these  things  when  he  got  to  his 
room,  when  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door.  It  was  Mammy 
Easter,  in  bright  turban  and  apron,  —  was  hospitality  and 
comfort  in  the  flesh. 

"  Is  you  got  all  you  need,  suh  ?  "  she  inquired. 

Stephen  replied  that  he  had.  But  Mammy  showed  no 
inclination  to  go,  and  he  was  too  polite  to  shut  the  door. 

"  How  you  like  Glencoe,  Mistah  Brice?  " 

He  was  charmed  with  it. 

"  We  has  some  of  de  fust  fam'lies  out  heah  in  de  sum 
mer,"  said  she.  "  But  de  Colonel,  he  ain't  much  on  a  gran' 
place  laik  in  Kaintuck.  Shucks,  no,  suh,  dis  ain't  much 
of  a  *8tablishment  I  Young  Massa  won't  have  no  lawns, 
no  greenhouses,  no  nothin'.  He  say  he  laik  it  wil'  and 
simple.  He  on'y  come  out  fo'  two  months,  mebbe.  But 
Miss  Jinny,  she  make  it  lively.  Las'  week,  until  the 
Jedge  come  we  hab  dis  house  chuck  full,  two  —  three  young 
ladies  in  a  room,  an'  five  young  gem  men  on  trunnle  beds." 

"  Until  the  Judge  came  ?  "  echoed  Stephen. 

"  Yassuh.  Den  Miss  Jinny  low  dey  all  hatter  go.  She 
say  she  ain't  gwineter  have  'em  roun'  'sturbin'  a  sick  man. 
De  Colonel  'monstrated.  He  done  give  the  Judge  his  big 
room,  and  he  say  he  and  de  young  men  gwine  ober  to 
Mistah  Catherwood's.  You  ain't  never  seen  Miss  Jinny 
rise  up,  suh  !  She  des  swep'  'em  all  out "  (Mammy  empha 
sized  this  by  rolling  her  hands)  "an'  declah  she  gwine  ten' 
to  the  Jedge  herself.  She  ain't  never  let  me  bring  up  one 
of  liis  meals,  suh."  And  so  she  left  Stephen  with  some 
food  for  reflection. 

Virginia  was  very  gay  at  breakfast,  and  said  that  the 
Judge  would  see  Stephen ;  so  he  and  the  Colonel,  that 
gentleman  with  his  hat  on,  went  up  to  his  room.  The 
shutters  were  thrown  open,  and  the  morning  sunlight 
filtered  through  the  leaves  and  fell  on  the  four-poster 
where  the  Judge  sat  up,  gaunt  and  grizzled  as  ever.  He 
smiled  at  his  host,  and  then  tried  to  destroy  immediately 
the  effect  of  the  smile. 

"  Well,  Judge,"  cried  the  Colonel,  taking  his  hand,  "  I 
reckon  we  talked  too  much  yesterday." 


170  THE   CRISIS 

"  No  such  thing,  Carvel,"  said  the  Judge,  forcibly.  "  If 
you  hadn't  left  the  room,  your  popular  sovereignty  would 
have  been,  in  rags  in  two  minutes." 

Stephen  sat  down  in  a  corner,  unobserved,  in  expecta 
tion  of  a  renewal.  But  at  this  moment  Miss  Virginia 
swept  into  the  room,  very  cool  in  a  pink  muslin. 

"  Colonel  Carvel,"  said  she,  sternly,  "  I  am  the  doctor's 
deputy  here.  I  was  told  to  keep  the  peace  at  any  cost. 
And  if  you  answer  back,  out  you  go,  like  that !  "  and  she 
snapped  her  fingers. 

The  Colonel  laughed.  But  the  Judge,  whose  mind  was 
on  the  argument,  continued  to  mutter  defiantly  until  his 
eye  fell  upon  Stephen. 

"  Well,  sir,  well,  sir,"  he  said,  "  you've  turned  up  at 
last,  have  you  ?  I  send  you  off  with  papers  for  a  man, 
and  I  get  back  a  piece  of  yellow  paper  saying  that  he's 
borrowed  you.  What  did  he  do  with  you,  Mr.  Brice  ?  " 

"  He  took  me  to  Freeport,  sir,  where  I  listened  to  the 
most  remarkable  speech  I  ever  expect  to  hear." 

"  What !  "  cried  the  Judge,  "  so  far  from  Boston  ?  " 

Stephen  hesitated,  uncertain  whether  to  laugh,  until  he 
chanced  to  look  at  Virginia.  She  had  pursed  her  lips. 

"  I  was  very  much  surprised,  sir,"  he  said. 

"  Humph  !  "  grunted  Mr.  Whipple,  "  and  what  did  you 
think  of  that  ruffian,  Lincoln  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  most  remarkable  man  that  I  have  ever  met, 
sir,"  answered  Stephen,  with  emphasis. 

"  Humph  !  " 

It  seemed  as  if  the  grunt  this  time  had  in  it  something 
of  approval.  Stephen  had  doubt  as  to  the  propriety  of 
discussing  Mr.  Lincoln  there,  and  he  reddened.  Vir 
ginia's  expression  bore  a  trace  of  defiance,  and»Mr.  Carvel 
stood  with  his  feet  apart,  thoughtfully  stroking  his  goatee. 
But  Mr.  Whipple  seemed  to  have  no  scruples. 

"So  you  admired  Lincoln,  Mr.  Brice?"  he  went  on. 
"  You  must  agree  with  that  laudatory  estimation  of  him 
which  I  read  in  the  Missouri  Democrat." 

Stephen  fidgeted. 

"  I  do,  sir,  most  decidedly,"  he  answered. 


GLENCOE  171 

"I  should  hardly  expect  a  conservative  Bostonian,  of 
the  class  which  respects  property,  to  have  said  that.  It 
might  possibly  be  a  good  thing  if  more  from  your  town 
could  hear  those  debates." 

"  They  will  read  them,  sir;   I  feel  confident  of  it." 

At  this  point  the  Colonel  could  contain  himself  no 
longer. 

"  I  reckon  I  might  tell  the  man  who  wrote  that  Democrat 
article  a  few  things,  if  I  could  find  out  who  he  is,"  said  he. 

"  Pa  !  "  said  Virginia,  warningly. 

But  Stephen  had  turned  a  fiery  red. 

"  I  wrote  it,  Colonel  Carvel,"  he  said. 

For  a  dubious  instant  of  silence  Colonel  Carvel  stared. 
Then  —  then  he  slapped  his  knees,  broke  into  a  storm  of 
laughter,  and  went  out  of  the  room.  He  left  Stephen  in 
a  moist  state  of  discomfiture. 

The  Judge  had  bolted  upright  from  the  pillows. 

"  You  have  been  neglecting  your  law,  sir,"  he  cried. 

"  I  wrote  the  article  at  night,"  said  Stephen,  indig 
nantly. 

"Then  it  must  have  been  Sunday  night,  Mr.  Brice." 

At  this  point  Virginia  hid  her  face  in  her  handkerchief, 
which  trembled  visibly.  Being  a  woman,  whose  ways  are 
unaccountable,  the  older  man  took  no  notice  of  her.  But 
being  a  young  woman,  and  a  pretty  one,  Stephen  was 
angry. 

"  I  don't  see  what  right  you  have  to  ask  me  that,  sir," 
he  said. 

"  The  question  is  withdrawn,  Mr.  Brice,"  said  the  Judge. 
"  Virginia,  you  may  strike  it  from  the  records.  And  now, 
sir,  tell  me  something  about  your  trip." 

Virginia  departed. 

An  hour  later  Stephen  descended  to  the  veranda,  and 
it  was  with  apprehension  that  he  discerned  Mr.  Carvel 
seated  under  the  vines  at  the  far  end.  Virginia  was 
perched  on  the  railing. 

To  Stephen's  surprise  the  Colonel  rose,  and,  coming 
toward  him,  laid  a  kindly  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Stephen,"  said  he,  "  there  will  be  nolaw  until  Monday. 


172  THE   CRISIS 

You  must  stay  with  us  until  then.  A  little  rest  will  do 
you  good." 

Stephen  was  greatly  touched. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I  should  like  to  very 
much.  But  I  can't." 

44  Nonsense,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  I  won't  let  the  Judge 
interfere." 

4t  It  isn't  that,  sir.  I  shall  have  to  go  by  the  two 
o'clock  train,  I  fear." 

The  Colonel  turned  to  Virginia,  who,  meanwhile,  had 
sat  silently  by. 

"Jinny,"  he  said,  "  we  must  contrive  to  keep  him." 

She  slid  off  the  railing. 

44  I'm  afraid  he  is  determined,  Pa,"  she  answered. 
44  But  perhaps  Mr.  Brice  would  like  to  see  a  little  of  the 
place  before  he  goes.  It  is  very  primitive,"  she  explained, 
44  not  much  like  yours  in  the  East." 

Stephen  thanked  her,  and  bowed  to  the  Colonel.  And 
so  she  led  him  past  the  low,  crooked  outbuildings  at  the 
back,  where  he  saw  old  Uncle  Ben  busy  over  the  prepara 
tion  of  his  dinner,  and  frisky  Rosetta,  his  daughter,  play 
ing  with  one  of  the  Colonel's  setters.  Then  Virginia 
took  a  well-worn  path,  on  each  side  of  which  the  high 
grass  bent  with  its  load  of  seed,  which  entered  the  wood. 
Oaks  and  hickories  and  walnuts  and  persimmons  spread 
out  in  a  glade,  and  the  wild  grape  twisted  fantastically 
around  the  trunks.  All  this  beauty  seemed  but  a  fit  set 
ting  to  the  strong  girlish  figure  in  the  pink  frock  before  him. 
So  absorbed  was  he  in  contemplation  of  this,  and  in  won 
dering  whether  indeed  she  were  to  marry  her  cousin, 
Clarence  Colfax,  that  he  did  not  see  the  wonders  of  view 
unrolling  in  front  of  him.  She  stopped  at  length  beside 
a  great  patch  of  wild  rose  bushes.  They  were  on  the 
edge  of  the  bluff,  and  in  front  of  them  a  little  rustic 
summer-house,  with  seats  on  its  five  sides.  Here  Vir 
ginia  sat  down.  But  Stephen,  going  to  the  edge,  stood 
and  marvelled.  Far,  far  below  him,  down  the  wooded 
steep,  shot  the  crystal  Meramec,  chafing  over  the  shallow 
gravel  beds  and  'tearing  headlong  at  the  deep  passes. 


GLENCOE  173 

Beyond,  the  dimpled  green  hills  rose  and  fell,  and  the 
stream  ran  indigo  and  silver.  A  hawk  soared  over  the 
water,  the  only  living  creature  in  all  that  wilderness. 

The  glory  of  the  place  stirred  his  blood.  And  when  at 
length  he  turned,  he  saw  that  the  girl  was  watching  him. 

"  It  is  very  beautiful,"  he  said. 

Virginia  had  taken  other  young  men  here,  and  they 
had  looked  only  upon  her.  And  yet  she  was  not  offended. 
This  sincerity  now  was  as  new  to  her  as  that  with  which 
he  had  surprised  her  in  the  Judge's  room. 

And  she  was  not  quite  at  her  ease.  A  reply  to  those 
simple  words  of  his  was  impossible.  At  honest  Tom 
Catherwood  in  the  same  situation  she  would  have  laughed. 
Clarence  never  so  much  as  glanced  at  scenery.  Her 
replies  to  him  were  either  flippant,  or  else  maternal,  as  to 
a  child. 

A  breeze  laden  with  the  sweet  abundance  of  that  valley 
stirred  her  hair.  And  with  that  womanly  gesture  which 
has  been  the  same  through  the  ages  she  put  up  her  hand, 
deftly  tucking  in  the  stray  wisp  behind. 

She  glanced  at  the  New  Englander,  against  whom  she 
had  been  in  strange  rebellion  since  she  had  first  seen  him. 
His  face,  thinned  by  the  summer  in  town,  was  of  the 
sternness  of  the  Puritan.  Stephen's  features  were  sharply 
marked  for  his  age.  The  will  to  conquer  was  there.  Yet 
justice  was  in  the  mouth,  and  greatness  of  heart.  Con 
science  was  graven  on  the  broad  forehead.  The  eyes 
were  the  blue  gray  of  the  flint,  kindly  yet  imperishable. 
The  face  was  not  handsome. 

Struggling,  then  yielding  to  the  impulse,  Virginia  let 
herself  be  led  on  into  the  years.  Sanity  was  the  word 
that  best  described  him.  She  saw  him  trusted  of  men, 
honored  of  women,  feared  by  the  false.  She  saw  him  in 
high  places,  simple,  reserved,  poised  evenly  as  he  was  now. 

"  Why  do  you  go  in  this  afternoon  ? "  she  asked 
abruptly. 

He  started  at  the  change  in  her  tone. 

"  I  wish  that  I  might  stay,"  he  said  regretfully.  "  But 
I  cannot,  Miss  Carvel." 


174  THE   CRISIS 

He  gave  no  reason.  And  she  was  too  proud  to  ask  it. 
Never  before  had  she  stooped  to  urge  young  men  to  stay. 
The  difficulty  had  always  been  to  get  them  to  go.  It 
was  natural,  perhaps,  that  her  vanity  was  wounded.  But 
it  hurt  her  to  think  that  she  had  made  the  overture,  had 
tried  to  conquer  whatever  it  was  that  set  her  against  him, 
and  had  failed  through  him. 

kt  You  must  find  the  city  attractive.  Perhaps,"  she 
added,  with  a  little  laugh,  "perhaps  it  is  Bellefontaine 
Road." 

"No,"  he  answered,  smiling. 

"  Then  "  (with  a  touch  of  derision),  "  then  it  is  because 
you  cannot  miss  an  afternoon's  work.  You  are  that  kind." 

"  I  was  not  always  that  kind,"  he  answered.  "  I  did 
not  work  at  Harvard.  But  now  I  have  to  or  —  or  starve," 
he  said. 

For  the  second  time  his  complete  simplicity  had  dis 
armed  her.  He  had  not  appealed  to  her  sympathy,  nor 
had  he  hinted  at  the  luxury  in  which  he  was  brought  up. 
She  would  have  liked  to  question  Stephen  on  this  former 
life.  But  she  changed  the  subject  suddenly. 

"  What  did  you  really  think  of  Mr.  Lincoln  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  I  thought  him  the  ugliest  man  I  ever  saw,  and  the 
handsomest  as  well." 
. "  But  you  admired  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Stephen,  gravely. 

"  You  believe  with  him  that  this  government  cannot 
exist  half  slave  and  half  free.  Then  a  day  will  come,  Mr. 
Brice,  when  you  and  I  shall  be  foreigners  one  to  the 
other." 

"  You  have  forgotten,"  he  said  eagerly,  "  you  have  for 
gotten  the  rest  of  the  quotation.     4 1  do  not  expect  the 
Union  to  be  dissolved  —  I  do  not  expect  the  house  to  fall 
-  but  cease  to  be  divided.'     It  will  become  all  one  thing 
or  all  the  other." 

Virginia  laughed.  "  That  seemed  to  me  very  equivo 
cal,"  said  she.  "  Your  rail-splitter  is  well  named." 

"Will  you  read  the  rest  of  that  speech?"    he  asked. 


GLENCOE  175 

"  Judge  Whipple  is  very  clever.  He  has  made  a  convert 
of  you,"  she  answered. 

"  The  Judge  has  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  cried 
Stephen.  "  He  is  not  given  to  discussion  with  me,  and 
until  I  went  to  Springfield  he  had  never  mentioned  Mr. 
Lincoln's  name  to  me." 

Glancing  at  her,  he  surprised  a  sparkle  of  amusement 
in  her  eyes.  Then  she  laughed  openly. 

"  Why  do  you  suppose  that  you  were  sent  to  Spring 
field  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  With  an  important  communication  for  Mr.  Lincoln," 
he  answered. 

"  And  that  most  important  communication  was  —  your 
self.  There,  now,  I  have  told  you,"  said  Virginia. 

"  Was  myself?     I  don't  understand." 

Virginia  puckered  her  lips. 

"  Then  you  haven't  the  sense  I  thought  you  had,"  she 
replied  impatiently.  "  Do  you  know  what  was  in  that  note  ? 
No  ?  Well,  a  year  ago  last  June  this  Black  Republican 
lawyer  whom  you  are  all  talking  of  made  a  speech 
before  a  convention  in  Illinois.  Judge  Whipple  has  been 
crazy  on  the  subject  ever  since  —  he  talks  of  Lincoln  in 
his  sleep  ;  he  went  to  Springfield  and  spent  two  days  with 
him,  and  now  he  can't  rest  until  you  have  seen  and  known 
and  heard  him.  So  he  writes  a  note  to  Lincoln  and  asks 
him  to  take  you  to  the  debate  — 

She  paused  again  to  laugh  at  his  amazement. 

"But  he  told  me  to  go  to  Springfield  !"  he  exclaimed. 

"  He  told  you  to  find  Lincoln.  He  knew  that  you 
would  obey  his  orders,  I  suppose." 

"  But  I  didn't  know  —  "  Stephen  began,  trying  to  com 
pass  within  an  instant  the  memory  of  his  year's  experience 
with  Mr.  Whipple. 

"  You  didn't  know  that  he  thought  anything  about 
you,"  said  Virginia.  "  That  is  his  way,  Mr.  Brice.  He 
has  more  private  charities  on  his  list  than  any  man  in  the 
city  except  Mr.  Brinsmade.  Very  few  know  it.  He 
thinks  a  great  deal  of  you.  But  there,"  she  added,  sud 
denly  blushing  crimson,  "I  am  sorry  I  told  you." 


176  THE   CRISIS 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  did  not  answer,  but  sat  tapping  the  seat  with  her 
fingers.  And  when  she  ventured  to  look  at  him,  he  had 
fallen  into  thought. 

"  I  think  it  must  be  time  for  dinner,"  said  Virginia,  "  if 
you  really  wish  to  catch  the  train." 

The  coldness  in  her  voice,  rather  than  her  words,  aroused 
him.  He  rose,  took  one  lingering  look  at  the  river,  and 
followed  her  to  the  house. 

At  dinner,  when  not  talking  about  his  mare,  the  Colonel 
was  trying  to  persuade  Stephen  to  remain.  Virginia  did 
not  join  in  this,  and  her  father  thought  the  young  man's 
refusal  sprang  from  her  lack  of  cordiality.  Colonel  Car 
vel  himself  drove  to  the  station. 

When  he  returned,  he  found  his  daughter  sitting  idly  on 
the  porch. 

"  I  like  that  young  man,  if  he  is  a  Yankee,"  he  declared. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Virginia,  promptly. 

"  My  dear,"  said  her  father,  voicing  the  hospitality  of  the 
Carvels,  "  I  am  surprised  at  you.  One  should  never  show 
one's  feelings  toward  a  guest.  As  mistress  of  this  house 
it  was  your  duty  to  press  him  to  stay." 

"  He  did  not  want  to  stay." 

"  Do  you  know  why  he  went,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  the 
Colonel. 

"  No,"  said  Virginia. 

"  I  asked  him,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Pa  !  I  did  not  think  it  of  you  !  "  she  cried.  And  then, 
"  What  was  it  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  He  said  that  his  mother  was  alone  in  town,  and  needed 
him." 

Virginia  got  up  without  a  word,  and  went  into  Judge 
Whipple's  room.  And  there  the  Colonel  found  her  some 
hours  later,  reading  aloud  from  a  scrap-book  certain 
speeches  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  which  Judge  W hippie  had  cut 
from  newspapers.  And  the  Judge,  lying  back  with  his 
eyes  half  closed,  was  listening  in  pure  delight.  Little  did 
he  guess  at  Virginia's  penance  ! 


CHAPTER   VII 

AN    EXCURSION 

I  AM  going  ahead  two  years.  Two  years  during  which 
a  nation  struggled  in  agony  with  sickness,  and  even  the 
great  strength  with  which  she  was  endowed  at  birth  was 
not  equal  to  the  task  of  throwing  it  off.  In  1620  a  Dutch 
ship  had  brought  from  Guinea  to  his  Majesty's  Colony  of 
Virginia  the  germs  of  that  disease  for  which  the  Nation's 
blood  was  to  be  let  so  freely.  During  these  years  signs 
of  dissolution,  of  death,  were  not  wanting. 

In  the  city  by  the  Father  of  Waters  where  the  races 
met,  men  and  women  were  born  into  the  world,  who  were 
to  die  in  ancient  Cuba,  who  were  to  be  left  fatherless  in 
the  struggle  soon  to  come,  who  were  to  live  to  see  new 
monsters  rise  to  gnaw  at  the  vitals  of  the  Republic,  and 
to  hear  again  the  cynical  laugh  of  Europe.  But  they 
were  also  to  see  their  country  a  power  in  the  world,  per 
chance  the  greatest  power.  While  Europe  had  wrangled, 
the  child  of  the  West  had  grown  into  manhood  and  taken 
a  seat  among  the  highest,  to  share  with  them  the  responsi 
bilities  of  manhood. 

Meanwhile,  Stephen  Brice  had  been  given  permission  to 
practise  law  in  the  sovereign  state  of  Missouri.  Stephen 
understood  Judge  W hippie  better.  It  cannot  be  said  that 
he  was  intimate  with  that  rather  formidable  personage, 
although  the  Judge,  being  a  man  of  habits,  had  formed 
that  of  taking  tea  at  least  once  a  week  with  Mrs.  Brice. 
Stephen  had  learned  to  love  the  Judge,  and  he  had  never 
ceased  to  be  grateful  to  him  for  a  knowledge  of  that  man 
who  had  had  the  most  influence  upon  his  life,  —  Abraham 
Lincoln. 

For  the  seed,  sowed  in  wisdom  and  self-denial,  was 
N  177 


178  THE   CRISIS 

bearing  fruit.  The  sound  of  gathering  conventions 
was  in  the  land,  and  the  Freeport  Heresy  was  not  for 
gotten. 

We  shall  not  mention  the  number  of  clients  thronging 
to  Mr.  Whipple's  office  to  consult  Mr.  Brice.  These 
things  are  humiliating.  Some  of  Stephen's  income  came 
from  articles  in  the  newspapers  of  that  day.  What  funny 
newspapers  they  were,  the  size  of  a  blanket !  No  startling 
headlines  such  as  we  see  now,  but  a  continued  novel  among 
the  advertisements  on  the  front  page  and  verses  from  some 
gifted  lady  of  the  town,  signed  Electra.  And  often  a  story 
of  pure  love,  but  more  frequentty  of  ghosts  or  other  eerie 
phenomena  taken  from  a  magazine,  or  an  anecdote  of  a 
cat  or  a  chicken.  There  were  letters  from  citizens  who 
had  the  mania  of  print,  bulletins  of  different  ages  from  all 
parts  of  the  Union,  clippings  out  of  day-bef ore-yesterday's 
newspaper  of  Chicago  or  Cincinnati  to  three-weeks  letters 
from  San  Francisco,  come  by  the  pony  post  to  Lexington 
and  then  down  the  swift  Missouri.  Of  course,  there  was 
news  by  telegraph,  but  that  was  precious  as  fine  gold,  — 
not  to  be  lightly  read  and  cast  aside. 

In  the  autumn  of  '59,  through  the  kindness  of  Mr. 
Brinsmade,  Stephen  had  gone  on  a  steamboat  up  the  river 
to  a  great  convention  in  Iowa.  On  this  excursion  was 
much  of  St.  Louis's  bluest  blood.  He  widened  his  circle 
of  acquaintances,  and  spent  much  of  his  time  walking  the 
guards  between  Miss  Anne  Brinsmade  and  Miss  Puss  Rus 
sell.  Perhaps  it  is  unfair  to  these  young  ladies  to  repeat 
what  they  said  about  Stephen  in  the  privacy  of  their  state 
rooms,  gentle  Anne  remonstrating  that  they  should  not 
gossip,  and  listening  eagerly  the  while,  and  laughing  at 
Miss  Puss,  whose  mimicry  of  Stephen's  severe  ways  brought 
tears  to  her  eyes. 

Mr.  Clarence  Colfax  was  likewise  on  the  boat,  and  pass 
ing  Stephen  on  the  guards,  bowed  distantly.  But  once, 
on  the  return  trip,  when  Stephen  had  a  writing  pad  on  his 
knee,  the  young  Southerner  came  up  to  him  in  his  frank 
est  manner  and  with  an  expression  of  the  gray  eyes  which 
was  not  to  be  withstood. 


AN   EXCURSION  179 

"  Making  a  case,  Brice  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  hear  you  are 
the  kind  that  cannot  be  idle  even  011  a  holiday." 

"  Not  as  bad  as  all  that,"  replied  Stephen,  smiling  at 
him. 

"  Reckon  you  keep  a  diary,  then,"  said  Clarence,  lean 
ing  against  the  rail.  He  made  a  remarkably  graceful 
figure,  Stephen  thought.  He  was  tall,  and  his  move 
ments  had  what  might  be  called  a  commanding  indolence. 
Stephen,  while  he  smiled,  could  not  but  admire  the  tone 
and  gesture  with  which  Colfax  bade  a  passing  negro  to 
get  him  a  handkerchief  from  his  cabin.  The  alacrity  of 
the  black  to  do  the  errand  was  amusing  enough.  Stephen 
well  knew  it  had  not  been  such  if  he  wanted  a  handkerchief. 

Stephen  said  it  was  not  a  diary.  Mr.  Colfax  was  too 
well  bred  to  inquire  further;  so  he  never  found  out  that 
Mr.  Brice  was  writing  an  account  of  the  Convention  and 
the  speechmaking  for  the  Missouri  Democrat. 

"  Brice,"  said  the  Southerner,  "  I  want  to  apologize  for 
things  I've  done  to  you  and  said  about  you.  I  hated  you 
for  a  long  time  after  you  beat  me  out  of  Hester,  and  —  " 
he  hesitated. 

Stephen  looked  up.  For  the  first  time  he  actually  liked 
Colfax.  He  had  been  long  enough  among  Coif  ax's  people 
to  understand  how  difficult  it  was  for  him  to  say  the  thing 
he  wished. 

"  You  may  remember  a  night  at  my  uncle's,  Colonel 
Carvel's,  on  the  occasion  of  my  cousin's  birthday  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Stephen,  in  surprise. 

"  Well,"  blurted  Clarence,  boyishly,  "  I  was  rude  to 
you  in  my  uncle's  house,  and  I  have  since  been  sorry." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  Stephen  took  it  warmly. 

"  I  was  younger  then,  Mr.  Colfax,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
didn't  understand  your  point  of  view  as  well  as  I  do 
now.  Not  that  I  have  changed  my  ideas,"  he  added 
quickly,  "but  the  notion  of  the  girl's  going  South  an 
gered  me.  I  was  bidding  against  the  dealer  rather  than 
against  you.  Had  I  then  known  Miss  Carvel  — "  he 
stopped  abruptly. 

The  winning  expression  died  from  the  face  of  the  other. 


180  THE   CRISIS 

He  turned  away,  and  leaning  across  the  rail,  stared  at  the 
high  bluffs,  red-bronzed  by  the  autumn  sun.  A  score 
of  miles  beyond  that  precipice  was  a  long  low  building 
of  stone,  surrounded  by  spreading  trees,  —  the  school 
for  young  ladies,  celebrated  throughout  the  West,  where 
our  mothers  and  grandmothers  were  taught,  —  Monticello. 
Thither  Miss  Virginia  Carvel  had  gone,  some  thirty  days 
since,  for  her  second  winter. 

Perhaps  Stephen  guessed  the  thought  in  the  mind  of 
his  companion,  for  he  stared  also.  The  music  in  the 
cabin  came  to  an  abrupt  pause,  and  only  the  tumbling 
of  waters  through  the  planks  of  the  great  wheels  broke 
the  silence.  They  were  both  startled  by  laughter  at 
their  shoulders.  There  stood  Miss  Russell,  the  picture 
of  merriment,  her  arm  locked  in  Anne  Brinsmade's. 

"  It  is  the  hour  when  all  devout  worshippers  turn 
towards  the  East,"  she  said.  "  The  goddess  is  enshrined 
at  Monticello." 

Both  young  men,  as  they  got  to  their  feet,  were  crimson. 
Whereupon  Miss  Russell  laughed  again.  Anne,  however, 
blushed  for  them.  But  this  was  not  the  first  time  Miss 
Russell  had  gone  too  far.  Young  Mr.  Colfax,  with  the 
excess  of  manner  which  was  his  at  such  times,  excused 
himself  and  left  abruptly.  This  to  the  further  embar 
rassment  of  Stephen  and  Anne,  and  the  keener  enjoyment 
of  Miss  Russell. 

"  Was  I  not  right,  Mr.  Brice  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  Why, 
you  are  even  writing  verses  to  her !  " 

"  I  scarcely  know  Miss  Carvel,"  he  said,  recovering. 
"  And  as  for  writing  verse  —  " 

"  You  never  did  such  a  thing  in  your  life  !  I  can  well 
believe  it." 

Miss  Russell  made 'a  face  in  the  direction  Colfax  had 
taken. 

"  He  always  acts  like  that  when  you  mention  her,"  she 
said. 

"  But  you  are  so  cruel,  Puss,"  said  Anne.  "  You  can't 
blame  him." 

"  Hairpins  !  "  said  Miss  Russell. 


AN  EXCURSION  181 

"  Isn't  she  to  marry  him  ?  "  said  Stephen,  in  his  natural 
voice. 

He  remembered  his  pronouns  too  late. 

"  That  has  been  the  way  of  the  world  ever  since  Adam 
and  Eve,"  remarked  Puss.  "  I  suppose  you  meant  to  ask, 
Mr.  Brice,  whether  Clarence  is  to  marry  Virginia  Carvel." 

Anne  nudged  her. 

"  My  dear,  what  will  Mr.  Brice  think  of  us  ?  " 

"  Listen,  Mr.  Brice,"  Puss  continued,  undaunted.  "  I 
shall 'tell  you  some  gossip.  Virginia  was  sent  to  Monti- 
cello,  and  went  with  her  father  to  Kentucky  and  Pennsyl 
vania  this  summer,  that  she  might  be  away  from  Clarence 
Colfax." 

"  Oh,  Puss  !  "  cried  Anne. 

Miss  Russell  paid  not  the  slightest  heed. 

"  Colonel  Carvel  is  right,"  she  went  on.  "  I  should  do 
the  same  thing.  They  are  first  cousins,  and  the  Colonel 
doesn't  like  that.  I  am  fond  of  Clarence.  But  he  isn't 
good  for  anything  in  the  world  except  horse  racing  and 
—  and  fighting.  He  wanted  to  help  drive  the  Black 
Republican  emigrants  out  of  Kansas,  and  his  mother  had 
to  put  a  collar  and  chain  on  him.  He  wanted  to  go  fili 
bustering  with  Walker,  and  she  had  to  get  down  on  her 
knees.  And  yet,"  she  cried,  "  if  you  Yankees  push  us  as 
far  as  war,  Mr.  Brice,  just  look  out  for  him." 

"  But  —  "  Anne  interposed. 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say,  —  that  Clarence 
has  money." 

"  Puss  !  "  cried  Anne,  outraged.     "  How  dare  you  !  " 

Miss  Russell  slipped  an  arm  around  her  waist. 

"  Come,  Anne,"  she  said,  "  we  mustn't  interrupt  the 
Senator  any  longer.  He  is  preparing  his  maiden  speech." 

That  was  the  way  in  which  Stephen  got  his  nickname. 
It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  that  he  wrote  no  more  until 
he  reached  his  little  room  in  the  house  on  Olive  Street. 

They  had  passed  Alton,  and  the  black  cloud  that  hung 
in  the  still  autumn  air  over  the  city  was  in  sight.  It  was 
dusk  when  the  Jackson  pushed  her  nose  into  the  levee,  and 
the  song  of  the  negro  stevedores  rose  from  below  as  they 


182  THE   CRISIS 

pulled  the  gang-plank  on  to  the  landing-stage.  Stephen 
stood  apart  on  the  hurricane  deck,  gazing  at  the  dark 
line  of  sooty  warehouses.  How  many  young  men 
with  their  way  to  make  have  felt  the  same  as  he  did 
after  some  pleasant  excursion.  The  presence  of  a  tall 
form  beside  him  shook  him  from  his  revery,  and  he  looked 
up  to  recognize  the  benevolent  face  of  Mr.  Brinsmade. 

44  Mrs.  Brice  may  be  anxious,  Stephen,  at  the  late  hour," 
said  he.  "  My  carriage  is  here,  and  it  will  give  me  great 
pleasure  to  convey  you  to  your  door." 

Dear  Mr.  Brinsmade  !  He  is  in  heaven  now,  and  knows 
at  last  the  good  he  wrought  upon  earth.  Of  the  many 
thoughtful  charities  which  Stephen  received  from  him,  this 
one  sticks  firmest  in  his  remembrance  :  A  stranger,  tired 
and  lonely,  and  apart  from  the  gay  young  men  and  women 
who  stepped  from  the  boat,  he  had  been  sought  out  by  this 
gentleman,  to  whom  had  been  given  the  divine  gift  of  for 
getting  none. 

"  Oh,  Puss,"  cried  Anne,  that  evening,  for  Miss  Russell 
had  come  to  spend  the  night,  "  how  could  you  have  talked 
to  him  so  ?  He  scarcely  spoke  on  the  way  up  in  the 
carriage.  You  have  offended  him." 

"  Why  should  I  set  him  upon  a  pedestal  ?  "  said  Puss, 
with  a  thread  in  her  mouth ;  "  why  should  you  all  set  him 
upon  a  pedestal  ?  He  is  only  a  Yankee,"  said  Puss,  toss 
ing  her  head,  "and  not  so  very  wonderful." 

44 1  did  not  say  he  was  wonderful,"  replied  Anne,  with 
dignity. 

44  But  you  girls  think  him  so.  Emily  and  Eugenie  and 
Maude.  He  had  better  marry  Belle  Cluyme.  A  great 
man,  he  may  give  some  decision  to  that  family.  Anne  !  " 

"Yes." 

44  Shall  I  tell  you  a  secret  ?  " 

44  Yes,"  said  Anne.  She  was  human,  and  she  was 
feminine. 

44  Then  —  Virginia  Carvel  is  in  love  with  him." 

44  With  Mr.  Brice  !  "  cried  astonished  Anne.  44  She 
hates  him  !  " 

44  She  thinks  she  hates  him,"  said  Miss  Russell,  calmly. 


AN  EXCURSION  183 

Anne  looked  up  at  her  companion  admiringly.  Her 
two  heroines  were  Puss  and  Virginia.  Both  had  the  same 
kind  of  daring,  but  in  Puss  the  trait  had  developed  into 
a  somewhat  disagreeable  outspokenness  which  made  man}' 
people  dislike  her.  Her  judgments  were  usually  well 
founded,  and  her  prophecies  had  so  often  come  to  pass 
that  Anne  often  believed  in  them  for  no  other  reason. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  said  Anne,  incredulously. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  September,  a  year  ago,  when 
we  were  all  out  at  Glencoe,  and  Judge  Whipple  was  ill, 
and  Virginia  sent  us  all  away  and  nursed  him  herself  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Anne. 

"  And  did  you  know  that  Mr.  Brice  had  gone  out,  with 
letters,  when  the  Judge  was  better?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Anne,  breathless. 

"It  was  a  Saturday  afternoon  that  he  left,  although 
they  had  begged  him  to  stay  over  Sunday.  Virginia  had 
written  for  me  to  come  back,  and  I  arrived  in  the  evening. 
I  asked  Easter  where  Jinny  was,  and  I  found  her  —  " 

"You  found  her  —  ?"  said  Anne. 

"  Sitting  alone  in  the  summer-house  over  the  river. 
Easter  said  she  had  been  there  for  two  hours.  And  I 
have  never  known  Jinny  to  be  such  miserable  company 
as  she  was  that  night." 

"  Did  she  mention  Stephen  ?  "  asked  Anne. 

"No." 

"  But  you  did,"  said  Anne,  with  conviction. 

Miss  Russell's  reply  was  not  as  direct  as  usual. 

"  You  know  Virginia  never  confides  unless  she  wants 
to,"  she  said. 

Anne  considered. 

"  Virginia  has  scarcely  seen  him  since  then,"  she  said. 
"  You  know  that  I  was  her  room-mate  at  Monticello  last 
year,  and  I  think  I  should  have  discovered  it." 

"  Did  she  speak  of  him  ?  "  demanded  Miss  Russell. 

"  Only  when  the  subject  was  mentioned.  I  heard  her 
repeat  once  what  Judge  Whipple  told  her  father  of  him, 
—  that  he  had  a  fine  legal  mind.  He  was  often  in  my 
letters  from  home,  because  they  have  taken  Pa's  house  next 


184  THE   CRISIS 

door,  and  because  Pa  likes  them.  I  used  to  read  those 
letters  to  Jinny,"  said  Anne,  "but  she  never  expressed 
any  desire  to  hear  them." 

"  I,  too,  used  to  write  Jinny  about  him,"  confessed  Puss. 

"  Did  she  answer  your  letter  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Miss  Puss,  "  but  that  was  just  before  the 
holidays,  you  remember.  And  then  the  Colonel  hurried 
her  off  to  see  her  Pennsylvania  relatives,  and  I  believe 
they  went  to  Annapolis,  too,  where  the  Carvels  come 
from." 

Stephen,  sitting  in  the  next  house,  writing  out  his 
account,  little  dreamed  that  he  was  the  subject  of  a  con 
ference  in  the  third  story  front  of  the  Brinsmades'.  Later, 
when  the  young  ladies  were  asleep,  he  carried  his  manu 
script  to  the  Democrat  office,  and  delivered  it  into  the 
hands  of  his  friend,  the  night  editor,  who  was  awaiting  it. 

Toward  the  end  of  that  week,  Miss  Virginia  Carvel  was 
sitting  with  her  back  to  one  of  the  great  trees  at  Monti- 
cello  reading  a  letter.  Every  once  in  a  while  she  tucked 
it  under  her  cloak  and  glanced  hastily  around.  It  was 
from  Miss  Anne  Brinsmade. 

"  I  have  told  you  all  about  the  excursion,  my  dear,  and 
how  we  missed  you.  You  may  remember  "  (ah,  Anne, 
the  guile  there  is  in  the  best  of  us),  "  you  may  remember 
Mr.  Stephen  Brice,  whom  we  used  to  speak  of.  Pa  and 
Ma  take  a  great  interest  in  him,  and  Pa  had  him  invited 
on  the  excursion.  He  is  more  serious  than  ever,  since  he 
has  become  a  full-fledged  lawyer.  But  he  has  a  dry 
humor  which  comes  out  when  you  know  him  well,  of 
which  I  did  not  suspect  him.  His  mother  is  the  dearest 
lady  I  have  ever  known,  so  quiet,  so  dignified,  and  so  well 
bred.  They  come  in  to  supper  very  often.  And  the 
other  night  Mr.  Brice  told  Pa  so  many  things  about  the 
people  south  of  Market  Street,  the  Germans,  which  he 
did  not  know,  that  Pa  was  astonished.  He  told  all  about 
German  history,  and  how  they  were  persecuted  at  home, 
and  why  they  came  here.  Pa  was  surprised  to  hear  that 
many  of  them  were  University  men,  and  that  they  were 
already  organizing  to  defend  the  Union.  I  heard  Pa  say, 


AN  EXCURSION  185 

4  That  is  what  Mr.  Blair  meant  when  he  assured  me  that 
we  need  not  fear  for  the  city.' 

"  J  inny  dear,  I  ought  not  to  have  written  you  this,  be 
cause  you  are  for  Secession,  and  in  your  heart  you  think 
Pa  a  traitor,  because  he  conies  from  a  slave  state  and 
has  slaves  of  his  own.  But  I  shall  not  tear  it  up. 

"  It  is  sad  to  think  how  rich  Mrs.  Brice  was  when  she 
lived  in  Boston,  and  what  she  has  had  to  come  to.  One 
servant  and  a  little  house,  and  no  place  to  go  to  in  the 
summer,  when  they  used  to  have  such  a  large  one.  I  often 
go  in  to  sew  with  her,  but  she  has  never  once  mentioned 
her  past  to  me. 

"  Your  father  has  no  doubt  sent  you  the  Democrat  with 
the  account  of  the  Convention.  It  is  the  fullest  published, 
by  far,  and  was  so  much  admired  that  Pa  asked  the  editor 
who  wrote  it.  Who  do  you  think,  but  Stephen  Brice  ! 
So  now  Pa  knows  why  Mr.  Brice  hesitated  when  Pa 
asked  him  to  go  up  the  river,  and  then  consented.  This 
is  not  the  end.  Yesterday,  when  I  went  in  to  see  Mrs. 
Brice,  a  new  black  silk  was  on  her  bed,  and  as  long  as  I 
live  I  shall  never  forget  how  sweet  was  her  voice  when 
she  said,  4  It  is  a  surprise  from  my  son,  my  dear.  I  did 
not  expect  ever  to  have  another.'  Jinny,  I  just  know  he 
bought  it  with  the  money  he  got  for  the  article.  That 
was  what  he  was  writing  on  the  boat  when  Clarence  Col- 
fax  interrupted  him.  Puss  accused  him  of  writing  verses 
to  you." 

At  this  point  Miss  Virginia  Carvel  stopped  reading. 
Whether  she  had  read  that  part  before,  who  shall  say? 
But  she  took  Anne's  letter  between  her  fingers  and  tore 
it  into  bits  and  flung  the  bits  into  the  wind,  so  that  they 
were  tossed  about  and  lost  among  the  dead  leaves  under 
the  great  trees.  And  when  she  reached  her  room,  there 
was  the  hated  Missouri  Democrat  lying,  still  open,  on  her 
table.  A  little  later  a  great  black  piece  of  it  came  toss 
ing  out  of  the  chimney  above,  to  the  affright  of  little  Miss 
Brown,  teacher  of  Literature,  who  was  walking  m  the 
grounds,  and  who  ran  to  the  principal's  room  with  the 
story  that  the  chimney  was  afire. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE   COLONEL  IS   WARNED 

IT  is  difficult  to  refrain  from  mention  of  the  leave-tak 
ing  of  Miss  Virginia  Carvel  from  the  Monticello  "  Female 
Seminary,"  so  called  in  the  Democrat.  Most  young  ladies 
did  not  graduate  in  those  days.  There  were  exercises. 
Stephen  chanced  to  read  in  the  Republican  about  these 
ceremonies,  which  mentioned  that  Miss  Virginia  Carvel, 
"  Daughter  of  Colonel  Comyn  Carvel,  was  without  doubt 
the  beauty  of  the  day.  She  wore  —  "  but  why  destroy 
the  picture  ?  I  have  the  costumes  under  my  hand.  The 
words  are  meaningless  to  all  males,  and  young  women 
might  laugh  at  a  critical  time.  Miss  Emily  Russell  per 
formed  upon  "  that  most  superb  of  all  musical  instruments, 
the  human  voice."  Was  it  Auld  Robin  Gray  that  she 
sang  ?  I  am  sure  it  was  Miss  Maude  Catherwood  who  re 
cited  To  My  Mother,  with  such  effect.  Miss  Carvel, 
so  Stephen  learned  with  alarm,  was  to  read  a  poem 
by  Mrs.  Browning,  but  was  "unavoidably  prevented." 
The  truth  was,  as  he  heard  afterward  from  Miss  Puss  Rus 
sell,  that  Miss  Jinny  had  refused  point  blank.  So  the  Lady 
Principal,  to  save  her  reputation  for  discipline,  had  been 
forced  to  deceive  the  press. 

There  was  another  who  read  the  account  of  the  exer 
cises  with  intense  interest,  a  gentleman  of  whom  we  have 
lately  forborne  to  speak.  This  is  Mr.  Eliphalet  Hopper. 
Eliphalet  has  prospered.  It  is  to  be  doubted  if  that 
somewhat  easy-going  gentleman,  Colonel  Carvel,  realized 
the  full  importance  of  Eliphalet  to  Carvel  &  Company. 
Mr.  Hood  had  been  superseded.  Ephum  still  opened  the 
store  in  the  mornings,  but  Mr.  Hopper  was  within  the 
ground-glass  office  before  the  place  was  warm,  and  through 

186 


THE   COLONEL   IS   WARNED  187 

warerooms  and  shipping  rooms,  rubbing  his  hands,  to  see  if 
any  were  late.  Many  of  the  old  force  were  missed,  and  a 
new  and  greater  force  were  come  in.  These  feared  Elipha- 
let  as  they  did  the  devil,  and  worked  the  harder  to  please 
him,  because  Eliphalet  had  hired  that  kind.  To  them  the 
Colonel  was  lifted  high  above  the  sordid  affairs  of  the 
world.  He  was  at  the  store  every  day  in  the  winter,  and 
Mr.  Hopper  always  followed  him  obsequiously  into  the 
ground-glass  office,  called  in  the  book-keeper,  and  showed 
him  the  books  and  the  increased  earnings. 

The  Colonel  thought  of  Mr.  Hood  and  his  slovenly 
management,  and  sighed,  in  spite  of  his  doubled  income. 
Mr.  Hopper  had  added  to  the  Company's  list  of  customers 
whole  districts  in  the  growing  Southwest,  and  yet  the 
honest  Colonel  did  not  like  him.  Mr.  Hopper,  by  a  grad 
ual  process,  had  taken  upon  his  own  shoulders,  and  conse 
quently  off  the  Colonel's,  responsibility  after  responsibility. 
There  were  some  painful  scenes,  of  course,  such  as  the 
departure  of  Mr.  Hood,  which  never  would  have  occurred 
had  not  Eliphalet  proved  without  question  the  incapacity 
of  the  ancient  manager.  Mr.  Hopper  only  narrowed  his 
lids  when  the  Colonel  pensioned  Mr.  Hood.  But  the 
Colonel  had  a  will  before  which,  when  roused,  even  Mr. 
Hopper  trembled.  So  that  Eliphalet  was  always  polite  to 
Ephum,  and  careful  never  to  say  anything  in  the  darkey's 
presence  against  incompetent  clerks  or  favorite  customers, 
who,  by  the  charity  of  the  Colonel,  remained  on  his 
books. 

One  spring  day,  after  the  sober  home-coming  of  Colonel 
Carvel  from  the  Democratic  Convention  at  Charleston, 
Ephum  accosted  his  master  as  he  came  into  the  store  of  a 
morning.  Ephum's  face  was  working  with  excitement. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Ephum  ? "  asked  the 
Colonel,  kindly.  "You  haven't  been  yourself  lately." 

"No,  Marsa^  I  ain't  'zactly." 

Ephum  put  down  the  duster,  peered  out  of  the  door  of 
the  private  office,  and  closed  it  softly. 

"  Marse  Comyn  ?  " 

"Yes?" 


188  THE   CRISIS 

"  Marse  Comyn,  I  ain't  got  no  use  fo'  dat  Misteh  Hoppa'. 
I'se  kinder  sup'stitious  'bout  him,  Marsa." 

The  Colonel  put  down  his  newspaper. 

"  Has  he  treated  you  badly,  Ephum  ?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

The  faithful  negro  saw  another  question  in  his  master's 
face.  He  well  knew  that  Colonel  Carvel  would  not 
descend  to  ask  an  inferior  concerning  the  conduct  of  a 
superior. 

"  Oh  no,  suh.  And  I  ain't  sayin'  nuthin'  gin  his  honesty. 
He  straight,  but  he  powerful  sharp,  Marse  Comyn.  An' 
he  jus'  mussiless  down  to  a  cent." 

The  Colonel  sighed.  He  realized  that  which  was  be 
yond  the  grasp  of  the  negro's  mind.  New  and  thriftier 
methods  of  trade  from  New  England  were  fast  replacing 
the  old  open-handedness  of  the  large  houses.  Competition 
had  begun,  and  competition  is  cruel.  Edwards,  James,  & 
Company  had  taken  a  Yankee  into  the  firm.  They  were 
now  Edwards,  James,  &  Doddington,  and  Mr.  Edwards's 
coolness  towards  the  Colonel  was  manifest  since  the  rise 
of  Eliphalet.  They  were  rivals  now  instead  of  friends. 
But  Colonel  Carvel  did  not  know  until  after  years  that 
Mr.  Hopper  had  been  offered  the  place  which  Mr.  Dod 
dington  filled  later. 

As  for  Mr.  Hopper,  increase  of  salary  had  not  changed 
him.  He  still  lived  in  the  same  humble  way,  in  a  single 
room  in  the  Widow  Crane's  boarding-house,  and  he  paid 
very  little  more  for  his  board  than  he  had  that  first  week 
in  which  he  swept  out  Colonel  Carvel's  store.  He  was 
superintendent,  now,  of  Mr.  Davitt's  Sunday  School,  and 
a  church  officer.  At  night,  when  he  came  home  from 
business,  he  would  read  the  widow's  evening  paper,  and 
the  Colonel's  morning  paper  at  the  office.  Of  true  Puritan 
abstemiousness,  his  only  indulgence  was  chewing  tobacco. 
It  was  as  early  as  1859  that  the  teller  of  the  Boatman's 
Bank  began  to  point  out  Mr.  Hopper's  back  to  casual  cus 
tomers,  and  he  was  more  than  once  seen  to  enter  the  presi 
dent's  room,  which  had  carpet  on  the  floor. 

Eliphalet's  suavity  with  certain  delinquent  customers 
from  the  Southwest  was  according  to  Scripture.  When 


THE   COLONEL   IS   WARNED  189 

they  were  profane,  and  invited  him  into  the  street,  he 
reminded  them  that  the  city  had  a  police  force  and  a  jail. 
While  still  a  young  man,  he  had  a  manner  of  folding  his 
hands  and  smiling  which  is  peculiar  to  capitalists,  and  he 
knew  the  laws  concerning  mortgages  in  several  different 
states. 

But  Eliphalet  was  content  still  to  remain  in  the  sphere 
in  which  Providence  had  placed  him,  and  so  to  be  an 
example  for  many  of  us.  He  did  not  buy,  or  even  hire, 
an  evening  suit.  He  was  pleased  to  superintend  some  of 
the  details  for  a  dance  at  Christmas-time  before  Virginia 
left  Monticello,  but  he  sat  as  usual  on  the  stair-landing. 
There  Mr.  Jacob  Cluyme  (who  had  been  that  day  in 
conversation  with  the  teller  of  the  Boatman's  Bank) 
chanced  upon  him.  Mr.  Cluyme  was  so  charmed  at  the 
facility  with  which  Eliphalet  recounted  the  rise  and  fall 
of  sugar  and  cotton  and  wheat  that  he  invited  Mr. 
Hopper  to  dinner.  And  from  this  meal  may  be  reckoned 
the  first  appearance  of  the  family  of  which  Eliphalet 
Hopper  was  the  head  into  polite  society.  If  the  Cluyme 
household  was  not  polite,  it  was  nothing.  Eliphalet  sat 
next  to  Miss  Belle,  and  heard  the  private  history  of  many 
old  families,  which  he  cherished  for  future  use.  Mrs. 
Cluyme  apologized  for  the  dinner,  which  (if  the  truth 
were  told)  needed  an  apology.  All  of  which  is  signifi 
cant,  but  sordid  and  uninteresting.  Jacob  Cluyme  usually 
bought  stocks  before  a  rise. 

There  was  only  one  person  who  really  bothered  Elipha 
let  as  he  rose  into  prominence,  and  that  person  was  Cap 
tain  Elijah  Brent.  If,  upon  entering  the  ground-glass 
office,  he  found  Eliphalet  without  the  Colonel,  Captain 
Lige  would  walk  out  again  just  as  if  the  office  were  empty. 
The  inquiries  he  made  were  addressed  always  to  Ephum. 
Once,  when  Mr.  Hopper  had  bidden  him  good  morning 
and  pushed  a  chair  toward  him,  the  honest  Captain  had 
turned  his  back  and  marched  straight  to  the  house  on 
Tenth  Street,  where  he  found  the  Colonel  alone  at  break 
fast.  The  Captain  sat  down  opposite. 

"  Colonel,"  said  he,  without  an  introduction.  "  I  don't 


190  THE   CRISIS 

like  this  here  business  of  letting  Hopper  run  your  store. 
He's  a  fish,  I  tell  you." 

The  Colonel  drank  his  coffee  in  silence. 

"  Lige,"  he  said  gently,  "  he's  nearly  doubled  ray 
income.  It  isn't  the  old  times,  when  we  all  went  our  own 
way  and  kept  our  old  customers  year  in  and  year  out. 
You  know  that." 

The  Captain  took  a  deep  draught  of  the  coffee  which 
Jackson  had  laid  before  him. 

"  Colonel  Carvel,"  he  said  emphatically,  "  the  fellow's 
a  damned  rascal,  and  will  ruin  you  yet  if  you  don't  take 
advice." 

The  Colonel  shifted  uneasily. 

"The  books  show  that  he's  honest,  Lige." 

"  Yes,"  cried  Lige,  with  his  fist  on  the  table.  "  Honest 
to  a  mill.  But  if  that  fellow  ever  gets  on  top  of  you,  or 
any  one  else,  he'll  grind  you  into  dust." 

"  He  isn't  likely  to  get  on  top  of  me,  Lige.  I  know  the 
business,  and  keep  watch.  And  now  that  Jinny's  coming 
home  from  Monticello,  I  feel  that  I  can  pay  more  attention 
to  her  —  kind  of  take  her  mother's  place,"  said  the  Colonel, 
putting  on  his  felt  hat  and  tipping  his  chair.  "Lige,  I 
want  that  girl  to  have  every  advantage.  She  ought  to  go 
to  Europe  and  see  the  world.  That  trip  East  last  sum 
mer  did  her  a  heap  of  good.  When  we  were  at  Calvert 
House,  Dan  read  her  something  that  my  grandfather  had 
written  about  London,  and  she  was  regularly  fired.  First 
I  must  take  her  to  the  Eastern  Shore  to  see  Carvel  Hall. 
Dan  still  owns  it.  Now  it's  London  and  Paris." 

The  Captain  walked  over  to  the  window,  and  said  noth 
ing.  He  did  not  see  the  searching  gray  eyes  of  his  old 
friend  upon  him. 

"  Lige  !  "  said  the  Colonel. 

The  Captain  turned. 

"  Lige,  why  don't  you  give  up  steamboating  and  come 
along  to  Europe?  You're  not  forty  yet,  and  you  have  a 
heap  of  money  laid  by." 

The  Captain  shook  his  head  with  the  vigor  that  char 
acterized  him. 


THE   COLONEL   IS   WARNED  191 

"  This  ain't  no  time  for  me  to  leave,"  he  said.  "  Colonel, 
I  tell  you  there's  a  storm  comin\''> 

The  Colonel  pulled  his  goatee  uneasily.  Here,  at  last, 
was  a  man  in  whom  there  was  no  guile. 

"  Lige,"  he  said,  " isn't  it  about  time  you  got  married?" 

Upon  which  the  Captain  shook  his  head  again,  even 
with  more  vigor.  He  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak. 
After  the  Christmas  holidays  he  had  driven  Virginia 
across  the  frozen  river,  all  the  way  to  Monticello,  in  a 
sleigh.  It  was  night  when  they  had  reached  the  school, 
the  light  of  its  many  windows  casting  long  streaks  on 
the  snow  under  the  trees.  He  had  helped  her  out,  and 
had  taken  her  hand  as  she  stood  on  the  step. 

"  Be  good,  Jinny,"  he  had  said.  "  Remember  what  a 
short  time  it  will  be  until  June.  And  your  Pa  will  come 
over  to  see  you." 

She  had  seized  him  by  the  buttons  of  his  great  coat, 
and  said  tearfully  :  — 

"  O  Captain  Lige  !  I  shall  be  so  lonely  when  you  are 
away.  Aren't  you  going  to  kiss  me?" 

He  had  put  his  lips  to  her  forehead,  driven  madly  back 
to  Alton,  and  spent  the  night.  The  first  thing  he  did  the 
next  day  when  he  reached  St.  Louis  was  to  go  straight  to 
the  Colonel  and  tell  him  bluntly  of  the  circumstance. 

"  Lige,  I'd  hate  to  give  her  up,"  Mr.  Carvel  said  ;  "  but 
I'd  rather  you'd  marry  her  than  any  man  I  can  think  of." 


CHAPTER   IX 

SIGNS   OF   THE   TIMES 

IN  that  spring  of  1860  the  time  was  come  for  the  South 
to  make  her  final  stand.  And  as  the  noise  of  gathering 
conventions  shook  the  ground,  Stephen  Brice  was  not  the 
only  one  who  thought  of  the  Question  at  Freeport,  The 
hour  was  now  at  hand  for  it  to  bear  fruit. 

Meanwhile,  his  hero,  the  hewer  of  rails  and  forger  of 
homely  speech,  Abraham  Lincoln,  had  made  a  little  tour 
eastward  the  year  before,  and  had  startled  Cooper  Union 
with  a  new  logic  and  a  new  eloquence.  They  were  the 
same  logic  and  the  same  eloquence  which  had  startled 
Stephen. 

Even  as  he  predicted  who  had  given  it  birth,  the  Ques 
tion  destroyed  the  great  Democratic  Party.  Colonel  Carvel 
travelled  to  the  convention  in  historic  Charleston  soberly 
and  fearing  God,  as  many  another  Southern  gentleman. 
In  old  Saint  Michael's  they  knelt  to  pray  for  harmony, 
for  peace  ;  for  a  front  bold  and  undismayed  toward  those 
who  wronged  them.  All  through  the  week  chosen  orators 
wrestled  in  vain.  Judge  Douglas,  you  flattered  yourself 
that  you  had  evaded  the  Question.  Do  you  see  the  South 
ern  delegates  rising  in  their  seats?  Alabama  leaves  the 
hall,  followed  by  her  sister  states.  The  South  has  not 
forgotten  your  Freeport  Heresy.  Once  she  loved  you, 
now  she  will  have  none  of  you. 

Gloomily,  indeed,  did  Colonel  Carvel  return  home.  He 
loved  the  Union  and  the  flag  for  which  his  grandfather 
Richard  had  fought  so  bravely.  That  flag  was  his  inheri 
tance.  So  the  Judge,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  knee  of 
his  friend,  reminded  him  gravely.  But  the  Colonel  shook 
his  head.  The  very  calmness  of  their  argument  had  been 
portentous. 

192 


SIGNS   OF  THE  TIMES  193 

"  No,  Whipple,"  said  he.  "  You  are  a  straightforward 
man.  You  can't  disguise  it.  You  of  the  North  are  bent 
upon  taking  away  from  us  the  rights  we  had  when  our 
fathers  formed  the  Constitution.  However  the  nigger 
got  to  this  country,  sir,  in  your  Bristol  and  Newport 
traders,  as  well  as  in  our  Virginia  and  Maryland  ships, 
he  is  here,  and  he  was  here  when  the  Constitution  was 
written.  He  is  happier  in  slavery  than  are  your  factory 
hands  in  New  England  ;  and  he  is  no  more  fit  to  exercise 
the  solemn  rights  of  citizenship,  I  say,  than  the  half- 
breeds  in  the  South  American  states." 

The  Judge  attempted  to  interrupt,  but  Mr.  Carvel 
stopped  him. 

"Suppose  you  deprive  me  of  my  few  slaves,  you  do  not 
ruin  me.  Yet  you  do  me  as  great  a  wrong  as  you  do  my 
friend  Samuels,  of  Louisiana,  who  depends  on  the  labor 
of  five  hundred.  Shall  I  stand  by  selfishly  and  see  him 
ruined,  and  thousands  of  others  like  him  ?  " 

Profoundly  depressed,  Colonel  Carvel  did  not  attend 
the  adjourned  Convention  at  Baltimore,  which  split  once 
more  on  Mason  and  Dixon's  line.  The  Democrats  of  the 
young  Northwest  stood  for  Douglas  and  Johnson,  and  the 
solid  South,  in  another  hall,  nominated  Brecken ridge  and 
Lane.  This,  of  course,  became  the  Colonel's  ticket. 

What  a  Babel  of  voices  was  raised  that  summer  !  Each 
with  its  cure  for  existing  ills.  Between  the  extremes  of 
the  Black  Republican  Negro  Worshippers  and  the  South 
ern  Rights  party  of  Breckenridge,  your  conservative  had 
the  choice  of  two  candidates,  —  of  Judge  Douglas  or 
Senator  Bell.  A  most  respectable  but  practically  extinct 
body  of  gentlemen  in  ruffled  shirts,  the  Old  Line  Whigs, 
had  likewise  met  in  Baltimore.  A  new  name  being  nec 
essary,  they  called  themselves  Constitutional  Unionists. 
Senator  Bell  was  their  candidate,  and  they  proposed  to 
give  the  Nation  soothing-syrup.  So  said  Judge  Whipple, 
with  a  grunt  of  contempt,  to  Mr.  Cluyme,  who  was  then  a 
prominent  Constitutional  Unionist.  Other  and  most 
estimable  gentlemen  were  also  Constitutional  Unionists, 
notably  Mr.  Calvin  Brinsmade.  Far  be  it  from  any  one 


194  THE  CRISIS 

to  cast  disrespect  upon  the  reputable  members  of  this  party, 
whose  broad  wings  sheltered  likewise  so  many  weak 
brethren. 

One  Sunday  evening  in  May,  the  Judge  was  taking  tea 
with  Mrs.  Brice.  The  occasion  was  memorable  for  more 
than  one  event  —  which  was  that  he  addressed  Stephen  by 
his  first  name  for  the  first  time. 

"  You're  an  admirer  of  Abraham  Lincoln,"  he  had 
said. 

Stephen,  used  to  Mr.  Whipple's  ways,  smiled  quietly 
at  his  mother.  He  had  never  dared  mention  to  the  Judge 
his  suspicions  concerning  his  journey  to  Springfield  and 
Freeport. 

"  Stephen,"  said  the  Judge  (here  the  surprise  came  in), 
"  Stephen,  what  do  you  think  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  chances  for 
the  Republican  nomination  ?  " 

"  We  hear  of  no  name  but  Seward's,  sir,"  said  Stephen, 
when  he  had  recovered. 

The  Judge  grunted. 

"  Do  you  think  that  Lincoln  would  make  a  good  Presi 
dent  ?  "  he  added. 

"  I  have  thought  so,  sir,  ever  since  you  were  good 
enough  to  give  me  the  opportunity  of  knowing  him." 

It  was  a  bold  speech  —  the  Judge  drew  his  great  eye 
brows  together,  but  he  spoke  to  Mrs.  Brice. 

"  I'm  not  as  strong  as  I  was  once,  ma'am,"  said  he. 
"  And  yet  I  am  going  to  that  Chicago  convention." 

Mrs.  Brice  remonstrated  mildly,  to  the  effect  that  he 
had  done  his  share  of  political  work.  He  scarcely  waited 
for  her  to  finish. 

"  I  shall  take  a  younger  man  with  me,  in  case  anything 
happens.  In  fact,  ma'am,  I  had  thought  of  taking  your 
son,  if  you  can  spare  him." 

And  so  it  was  that  Stephen  went  to  that  most  dramatic 
of  political  gatherings,  —  in  the  historic  Wigwam.  It  was 
so  that  his  eyes  were  opened  to  the  view  of  the  monster 
which  maims  the  vitality  of  the  Republic,  —  the  political 
machine.  Mr.  Seward  had  brought  his  machine  from 
New  York,  — a  legion  prepared  to  fill  the  Wigwam  with 


SIGNS   OF  THE  TIMES  195 

their  bodies,  and  to  drown  with  their  cries  all  names  save 
that  of  their  master. 

Stephen  indeed  had  his  eyes  opened.  Through  the 
kindness  of  Judge  Whipple  he  heard  many  quiet  talks 
between  that  gentleman  and  delegates  from  other  states 
—  Pennsylvania  and  Illinois  and  Indiana  and  elsewhere. 
He  perceived  that  the  Judge  was  no  nonentity  in  this  new 
party.  Mr.  Whipple  sat  in  his  own  room,  and  the  dele 
gates  came  and  ranged  themselves  along  the  bed.  Late 
one  night,  when  the  delegates  were  gone,  Stephen  ven 
tured  to  speak  what  was  in  his  mind. 

"  Mr.  Lincoln  did  not  strike  me  as  the  kind  of  man,  sir, 
who  would  permit  a  bargain." 

"  Mr.  Lincoln's  at  home  playing  barn-ball,"  said  the 
Judge,  curtly.  "He  doesn't  expect  the  nomination." 

"  Then,"  said  Stephen,  rather  hotly,  "  I  think  you  are 
unfair  to  him." 

You  are  expecting  the  Judge  to  thunder.  Sometimes 
he  liked  this  kind  of  speech. 

"  Stephen,  I  hope  that  politics  may  be  a  little  cleaner 
when  you  become  a  delegate,"  he  answered,  with  just  the 
suspicion  of  a  smile.  "  Supposing  you  are  convinced  that 
Abraham  Lincoln  is  the  only  man  who  can  save  the  Union, 
and  supposing  that  the  one  way  to  get  him  nominated  is 
to  meet  Seward's  gang  with  their  own  methods,  what  would 
you  do,  sir  ?  I  want  a  practical  proposition,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Whipple,  "one  that  we  can  use  to-night.  It  is  now  one 
o'clock." 

As  Stephen  was  silent,  the  Judge  advised  him  to  go  to 
bed.  And  the  next  morning,  while  Mr.  Seward's  hench 
men,  confident  and  uproarious,  were  parading  the  streets 
of  Chicago  with  their  bands  and  their  bunting,  the  vast 
Wigwam  was  quietly  filling  up  with  bony  Westerners  whose 
ally  Avas  none  other  than  the  state  of  Pennsylvania.  These 
gentlemen  possessed  wind  which  they  had  not  wasted  in 
processions.  And  the  Lord  delivered  Seward  and  all  that 
was  his  into  their  hands. 

How  the  light  of  Mr.  Seward's  hope  went  out  after  the 
first  ballot,  and  how  some  of  the  gentlemen  attached  to 


196  THE   CBISIS 

his  person  wept ;  and  how  the  voices  shook  the  Wigwam, 
and  the  thunder  of  the  guns  rolled  over  the  tossing  waters 
of  the  lake,  many  now  living  remember.  That  day  a 
name  was  delivered  to  the  world  through  the  mouths  of 
political  schemers  which  was  destined  to  enter  history  as 
that  of  the  saviour  of  the  Nation. 

Down  in  little  Springfield,  on  a  vacant  lot  near  the 
station,  a  tall  man  in  his  shirt  sleeves  was  playing  barn- 
ball  with  some  boys.  The  game  finished,  he  had  put  on 
his  black  coat  and  was  starting  homeward  under  the  trees, 
—  when  a  fleet  youngster  darted  after  him  with  a  tele- 

fram.     The  tall  man  read  it,  and  continued  on  his  way, 
is  head  bent  and  his  feet  taking  long  strides.     Later  in 
the  day  he  was  met  by  a  friend. 

"  Abe,"  said  the  friend,  u  I'm  almighty  glad  there's 
somebody  in  this  town's  got  notorious  at  last." 

In  the  early  morning  of  their  return  from  Chicago, 
Judge  Whipple  and  Stephen  were  standing  in  the  front  of 
a  ferry-boat  crossing  the  Mississippi.  The  sun  was  behind 
them.  The  Judge  had  taken  off  his  hat,  and  his  gray 
hair  was  stirred  by  the  river  breeze.  Illness  had  set  a 
yellow  seal  on  the  face,  but  the  younger  man  remarked  it 
not.  For  Stephen,  staring  at  the  black  blur  of  the  city's 
outline,  was  filled  with  a  strange  exaltation  which  might 
have  belonged  to  his  Puritan  forefathers.  Now  at  length 
was  come  his  chance  to  be  of  use  in  life,  —  to  dedicate  the 
labor  of  his  hands  and  of  his  brains  to  Abraham  Lincoln, 
uncouth  prophet  of  the  West.  With  all  his  might  he 
would  work  to  save  the  city  for  the  man  who  was  the 
hope  of  the  Union. 

The  bell  rang.  The  great  paddles  scattered' the  brown 
waters  with  white  foam,  and  the  Judge  voiced  his 
thoughts. 

"  Stephen,"  said  he,  "  I  guess  we'll  have  to  put  our 
shoulders  to  the  wheel  this  summer.  If  Lincoln  is  not 
elected,  I  have  lived  my  sixty-five  years  for  nothing." 

As  he  descended  the  plank,  he  laid  a  hand  on  Stephen's 


SIGNS    OF   THE   TIMES  197 

arm,  and  tottered.  The  big  Louisiana,  Captain  Brent's 
boat,  just  in  from  New  Orleans,  was  blowing  off  her  steam 
as  with  slow  steps  they  climbed  the  levee  and  the  steep 
pitch  of  the  street  beyond  it.  The  clatter  of  hooves  and 
the  crack  of  whips  reached  their  ears,  and,  like  many 
others  before  them  arid  since,  they  stepped  into  Carvel 
&  Company's.  On  the  inside  of  the  glass  partition  of  the 
private  office,  a  voice  of  great  suavity  was  heard.  It  was 
Eliphalet  Hopper's. 

"  If  you  will  give  me  the  numbers  of  the  bales,  Captain 
Brent,  I'll  send  a  dray  down  to  your  boat  and  get  them." 

It  was  a  very  decisive  voice  that  answered. 

"No,  sir,  I  prefer  to  do  business  with  my  friend,  Colo 
nel  Carvel.  I  guess  I  can  wait" 

"  I  could  sell  the  goods  to  Texas  buyers  who  are  here 
in  the  store  right  now." 

"  Until  I  get  instructions  from  one  of  the  concern," 
vowed  Captain  Lige,  "  I  shall  do  as  I  always  have  done, 
sir.  What  is  your  position  here,  Mr.  Hopper?" 

"  I  am  manager,  1  callate." 

The  Captain's  fist  was  heard  to  come  down  on  the 
desk. 

"  You  don't  manage  me,"  he  said,  "  and  I  reckon  you 
don't  manage  the  Colonel." 

Mr.  Hopper's  face  was  not  pleasant  to  see  as  he  emerged. 
But  at  sight  of  Judge  Whipple  on  the  steps  his  suavity 
returned. 

"  The  Colonel  will  be  in  any  minute,  sir,"  said  he. 

But  the  Judge  walked  past  him  without  reply,  and  into 
the  office.  Captain  Brent,  seeing  him,  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Well,  well,  Judge,"  said  he,  heartily,  "  you  fellows 
have  done  it  now,  sure.  I'll  say  this  for  you,  you've  picked 
a  smart  man." 

"  Better  vote  for  him,  Lige,"  said  the  Judge,  sitting 
down. 

The  Captain  smiled  at  Stephen. 

"  A  man's  got  a  lot  of  choice  this  year,"  said  he.  "  Two 
governments,  thirty-three  governments,  one  government 
patched  up  for  a  year  or  two." 


198  THE   CRISIS 

"  Or  no  government,"  finished  the  Judge.  "  Lige, 
you're  not  such  a  fool  as  to  vote  against  the  Union  ?  " 

"  Judge,"  said  the  Captain,  instantly,  "  I'm  not  the  only 
one  in  this  town  who  will  have  to  decide  whether  my  sym 
pathies  are  wrong.  My  sympathies  are  with  the  South." 

44  It's  not  a  question  of  sympathy,  Captain,"  answered 
the  Judge,  dryly.  "  Abraham  Lincoln  himself  was  born 
in  Kentucky." 

They  had  not  heard  a  step  without. 

"  Gentlemen,  mark  my  words.  If  Abraham  Lincoln  is 
elected,  the  South  leaves  this  Union." 

The  Judge  started,  and  looked  up.  The  speaker  was 
Colonel  Carvel  himself. 

44  Then,  sir,"  Mr.  Whipple  cried  hotly,  "  then  you  will 
be  chastised  and  brought  back.  For  at  last  we  have 
chosen  a  man  who  is  strong  enough,  —  who  does  not  fear 
your  fire-eaters, — whose  electors  depend  on  Northern 
votes  alone." 

Stephen  rose  apprehensively.  So  did  Captain  Lige. 
The  Colonel  had  taken  a  step  forward,  and  a  fire  was  quick 
to  kindle  in  his  gray  eyes.  It  was  as  quick  to  die.  Judge 
Whipple,  deathly  pale,  staggered  and  fell  into  Stephen's 
arms.  But  it  was  the  Colonel  who  laid  him  on  the  horse 
hair  sofa. 

"  Silas  !  "  he  said,  "  Silas  !  " 

Nor  could  the  two  who  listened  sound  the  depth  of  the 
pathos  the  Colonel  put  into  those  two  words. 

But  the  Judge  had  not  fainted.  And  the  brusqueness 
in  his  weakened  voice  was  even  more  pathetic  — 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  he.     "  A  little  heat,  and  no  breakfast." 

The  Colonel  already  had  a  bottle  of  the  famous  Bourbon 
in  his  hand,  and  Captain  Lige  brought  a  glass  of  muddy 
iced  water.  Mr.  Carvel  made  an  injudicious  mixture  of 
the  two,  and  held  it  to  the  lips  of  his  friend.  He  was 
pushed  away. 

44  Come,  Silas,"  he  said. 

44  No  !  "  cried  the  Judge,  and  with  this  effort  he  slipped 
back  again.  Those  who  stood  there  thought  that  the 
stamp  of  death  was  already  on  Judge  Whipple's  face. 


SIGNS   OF   THE   TIMES  199 

But  the  lips  were  firmly  closed,  bidding  defiance,  as 
ever,  to  the  world.  The  Colonel,  stroking  his  goatee, 
regarded  him  curiously. 

"  Silas,"  he  said  slowly,  "  if  you  won't  drink  it  for  me, 
perhaps  you  will  drink  it  —  for  —  Abraham  —  Lincoln." 

The  two  who  watched  that  scene  have  never  forgotten 
it.  Outside,  in  the  great  cool  store,  the  rattle  of  the 
trucks  was  heard,  and  Mr.  Hopper  giving  commands. 
Within  was  silence.  The  straight  figure  of  the  Colonel 
towered  above  the  sofa  while  he  waited.  A  full  minute 
passed.  Once  Judge  Whipple's  bony  hand  opened  and 
shut,  and  once  his  features  worked.  Then,  without  warn 
ing,  he  sat  up. 

"  Colonel,"  said  he,  "  I  reckon  I  wouldn't  be  much  use 
to  Abe  if  I  took  that.  But  if  you'll  send  Ephum  after  a 
cup  of  coffee  —  " 

Mr.  Carvel  set  the  glass  down.  In  two  strides  he  had 
reached  the  door  and  given  the  order.  Then  he  came 
back  and  seated  himself  on  the  sofa. 

Stephen  found  his  mother  at  breakfast.  He  had  for 
gotten  the  convention.  He  told  her  what  had  happened 
at  Mr.  Carvel's  store,  and  how  the  Colonel  had  tried  to 
persuade  Judge  Whipple  to  take  the  Glencoe  house  while 
he  was  in  Europe,  and  how  the  Judge  had  refused.  Tears 
were  in  the  widow's  eyes  when  Stephen  finished. 

"  And  he  means  to  stay  here  in  the  heat  and  go  through 
the  campaign  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  He  says  that  he  will  not  stir." 

"It  will  kill  him,  Stephen,"  Mrs.  Brice  faltered. 

44  So  the  Colonel  told  him.  And  he  said  that  he  would 
die  willingly  —  after  Abraham  Lincoln  was  elected.  He 
had  nothing  to  live  for  but  to  fight  for  that.  He  had 
never  understood  the  world,  and  had  quarrelled  with  it 
all  his  life." 

44  He  said  that  to  Colonel  Carvel  ?  " 

44  Yes." 

44  Stephen  !  " 

He  didn't  dare  to  look  at  his  mother,  nor  she  at  him, 
And  when  he  reached  the  office,  half  an  hour  later,  Mr. 


200  THE   CRISIS 

Whipple  was  seated  in  his  chair,  defiant  and  unapproach 
able.  Stephen  sighed  as  he  settled  down  to  his  work. 
The  thought  of  one  who  might  have  accomplished  what 
her  father  could  not  was  in  his  head.  She  was  at  Monti- 
cello. 

Some  three  weeks  later  Mr.  Brinsmade's  buggy  drew 
up  at  Mrs.  Brice's  door.  The  Brinsmade  family  had 
been  for  some  time  in  the  country.  And  frequently, 
when  that  gentleman  was  detained  in  town  by  business, 
he  would  stop  at  the  little  home  for  tea.  The  secret  of 
the  good  man's  visit  came  out  as  he  sat  with  them  on  the 
front  steps  afterward. 

"  I  fear  that  it  will  be  a  hot  summer,  ma'am,"  he  had 
said  to  Mrs.  Brice.  "  You  should  go  to  the  country." 

"  The  heat  agrees  with  me  remarkably,  Mr.  Brinsmade," 
said  the  lady,  smiling. 

"I  have  heard  that  Colonel  Carvel  wishes  to  rent  his 
house  at  Glencoe,"  Mr.  Brinsmade  continued.  "  The  fig 
ure  is  not  high."  He  mentioned  it.  And  it  was,  indeed, 
nominal.  "  It  struck  me  that  a  change  of  air  would  do 
you  good,  Mrs.  Brice,  and  Stephen.  Knowing  that  you 
shared  in  our  uneasiness  concerning  Judge  Whipple,  I 
thought  —  " 

He  stopped,  and  looked  at  her.  It  was  a  hard  task  even 
for  that  best  and  most  tactful  of  gentlemen,  Mr.  Brinsmade. 
He  too  had  misjudged  this  calm  woman. 

"  I  understand  you,  Mr.  Brinsmade,"  she  said.  She  saw, 
as  did  Stephen,  the  kindness  behind  the  offer  —  Colonel 
Carvel's  kindness  and  his  own.  The  gentleman's  benevo 
lent  face  brightened. 

"  And,  my  dear  Madam,  do  not  let  the  thought  of  this 
little  house  trouble  you.  It  was  never  my  expectation  to 
have  it  occupied  in  the  summer.  If  we  could  induce  the 
Judge  to  go  to  Glencoe  with  you  for  the  summer,  I  am 
sure  it  would  be  a  relief  for  us  all." 

He  did  not  press  the  matter,  but  begged  Stephen  to  call 
in  on  him  in  a  day  or  two,  at  the  bank. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Stephen  ?  "  asked  his  mother,  when 
Mr.  Brinsmade  was  gone. 


SIGNS   OF   THE   TIMES  201 

Stephen  did  not  reply  at  once.  What,  indeed,  could  he 
say?  The  vision  of  that  proud  figure  of  Miss  Virginia 
was  before  him,  and  he  revolted.  What  was  kindness 
from  Colonel  Carvel  and  Mr.  Brinsmade  was  charity  from 
her.  He  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  living  in  a  house 
haunted  by  her.  And  yet  why  should  he  let  his  pride 
and  his  feelings  stand  in  the  way  of  the  health  —  perhaps  of 
the  life  —  of  Judge  Whipple  ? 

It  was  characteristic  of  his  mother's  strength  of  mind 
not  to  mention  the  subject  again  that  evening.  Stephen 
did  not  sleep  in  the  hot  night.  But  when  he  rose  in  the- 
morning  he  had  made  up  his  mind.  After  breakfast  he 
went  straight  to  the  Colonel's  store,  and  fortunately  found 
Mr.  Carvel  at  his  desk,  winding  up  his  affairs. 

The  next  morning,  when  the  train  for  the  East  pulled 
out  of  Illinoistown,  Miss  Jinny  Carvel  stood  on  the  plat 
form  tearfully  waving  good-by  to  a  knot  of  friends. 
She  was  leaving  for  Europe.  Presently  she  went  into  the 
sleeping-car  to  join  the  Colonel,  who  wore  a  gray  linen 
duster.  For  a  long  time  she  sat  gazing  at  the  young 
corn  waving  on  the  prairie,  fingering  the  bunch  of  June 
roses  on  her  lap.  Clarence  had  picked  them  only  a  few 
hours  ago,  in  the  dew  at  Bellegarde.  She  saw  her 
cousin  standing  disconsolate  under  the  train  sheds,  just  a& 
she  had  left  him.  She  pictured  him  riding  out  the  Belle- 
fontaine  Road  that  afternoon,  alone.  Now  that  the 
ocean  was  to  be  between  them,  was  it  love  that  she  felt 
for  Clarence  at  last  ?  She  glanced  at  her  father.  Once 
or  twice  she  had  suspected  him  of  wishing  to  separate 
them.  Her  Aunt  Lillian,  indeed,  had  said  as  much,  and 
Virginia  had  silenced  her.  But  when  she  had  asked  the 
Colonel  to  take  Clarence  to  Europe,  he  had  refused. 
And  yet  she  knew  that  he  had  begged  Captain  Lige  to 

go- 
Virginia  had  been  at  home  but  a  week.     She  had  seen 
the  change  in  Clarence  and  exulted.     The  very  first  day 
she  had  surprised  him  on  the  porch  at  Bellegarde  with 
"  Hardee's  tactics."     From  a  boy,  Clarence  had  suddenly 


202  THE   CRISIS 

become  a  man  with  a  Purpose,  —  and  that  was  the  Purpose 
of  the  South. 

"  They  have  dared  to  nominate  that  dirty  Lincoln,"  he 
said.  "Do  you  think  that  we  will  submit  to  nigger  equal 
ity  rule  ?  Never  !  never  !  "  he  cried.  "  If  they  elect  him,  I 
will  stand  and  fight  them  until  my  legs  are  shot  from  under 
me,  and  then  I  will  shoot  down  the  Yankees  from  the 
ground." 

Virginia's  heart  had  leaped  within  her  at  the  words,  and 
into  her  eyes  had  flashed  once  more  the  look  for  which 
the  boy  had  waited  and  hoped  in  vain.  He  had  the  car 
riage  of  a  soldier,  the  animation  and  endurance  of  the 
thoroughbred  when  roused.  He  was  of  the  stuff  that 
made  the  resistance  of  the  South  the  marvel  of  the  world. 
And  well  we  know,  whatever  the  sound  of  it,  that  his 
speech  was  not  heroics.  Nor  was  it  love  for  his  cousin 
that  inspired  it,  save  in  this  :  he  had  apotheosized  Vir 
ginia.  To  him  she  was  the  inspired  goddess  of  the  South, 
—  his  country.  His  admiration  and  affection  had  of  late 
been  laid  upon  an  altar.  Her  ambition  for  him  he  felt 
was  likewise  the  South's  ambition  for  him. 

His  mother,  Virginia's  aunt,  felt  this  too,  and  strove 
against  it  with  her  feeble  might.  She  never  had  had 
power  over  her  son  ;  nor  over  any  man,  save  the  temporal 
power  of  beauty.  And  to  her  mortification  she  found  her 
self  actually  in  fear  of  this  girl  who  might  have  been  her 
daughter.  So  in  Virginia's  presence  she  became  more 
trivial  and  petty  than  ever.  It  was  her  one  defence. 

It  had  of  course  been  a  foregone  conclusion  that  Clarence 
should  join  Company  A.  Few  young  men  of  family  did 
not.  And  now  he  ran  to  his  room  to  don  for  Virginia 
that  glorious  but  useless  full  dress, — the  high  bearskin 
hat,  the  red  pigeon-tailed  coat,  the  light  blue  trousers,  and 
the  gorgeous,  priceless  shackle.  Indeed,  the  boy  looked 
stunning.  He  held  his  big  rifle  like  a  veteran,  and  his 
face  was  set  with  a  high  resolve  there  was  no  mistaking. 
The  high  color  of  her  pride  was  on  the  cheek  of  the  girl 
as  he  brought  his  piece  to  the  salute  of  her,  his  mistress. 
And  yet,  when  he  was  gone,  and  she  sat  alone  amid  the 


SIGNS   OF   THE   TIMES  203 

roses  awaiting  him,  came  wilfully  before  her  another 
face  that  was  relentless  determination,  —  the  face  of 
Stephen  Brice,  as  he  had  stood  before  her  in  the  summer- 
house  at  Glencoe.  Strive  as  she  might  against  the  thought, 
deny  it  to  herself  and  others,  to  Virginia  Carvel  his  was 
become  the  face  of  the  North.  Her  patriotism  and  all 
that  was  in  her  of  race  rebelled.  To  conquer  that  face 
she  would  have  given  her  own  soul,  and  Clarence's. 
Angrily  she  had  arisen  and  paced  the  garden  walks,  and 
cried  out  aloud  that  it  was  not  inflexible. 

And  now,  by  the  car  window,  looking  out  over  the  end 
less  roll  of  the  prairie,  the  memory  of  this  was  bitter  within 
her. 

Suddenly  she  turned  to  her  father. 

"  Did  you  rent  our  house  at  Glencoe  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  Jinny." 

"  I  suppose  Mr.  Brice  was  too  proud  to  accept  it  at 
your  charitable  rent,  even  to  save  Mr.  W hippie's  life." 

The  Colonel  turned  to  his  daughter  in  mild  surprise. 
She  was  leaning  back  on  the  seat,  her  eyes  half  closed. 

"  Once  you  dislike  a  person,  Jinny,  you  never  get  over 
it.  I  always  had  a  fancy  for  the  young  man,  and  now  I 
have  a  better  opinion  of  him  than  ever  before.  It  was  I 
who  insulted  them  by  naming  that  rent." 

"  What  did  he  do  ?  "  Virginia  demanded. 

"  He  came  to  my  office  yesterday  morning.  4  Colonel 
Carvel,'  said  he,  '  I  hear  you  wish  to  rent  your  house.'  I 
said  yes.  4  You  rented  it  once  before,  sir,'  said  he.  4  Yes,' 
said  I.  '  May  I  ask  you  what  price  you  got  for  it  ? ' 
said  he." 

"  And  what  did  you  say  ?  "  she  asked,  leaning  forward. 

"I  told  him,"  said  the  Colonel,  smiling.  "But  I 
explained  that  I  could  not  expect  to  command  that  price 
now  on  short  notice.  He  replied  that  they  would  pay  it, 
or  not  consider  the  place." 

Virginia,  turned  her  head  away  and  stared  out  over  the 
fields. 

"  How  could  they  afford  it !  "  she  murmured. 

"  Mr.  Brinsmade  tells  me  that  young  Brice  won  rather 


204  THE   CKISIS 

a  remarkable  case  last  winter,  and  since  then  has  had  some 
practice.  And  that  he  writes  for  the  newspapers.  I  be 
lieve  he  declined  some  sort  of  an  editorial  position,  pre 
ferring  to  remain  at  the  law." 

"  And  so  they  are  going  into  the  house?"  she  asked 
presently. 

"  No,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  Whipple  refused  point-blank 
to  go  to  the  country.  He  said  that  he  would  be  shirking 
the  only  work  of  his  life  likely  to  be  worth  anything.  So 
the  Brices  remain  in  town." 

Colonel  Carvel  sighed.     But  Virginia  said  nothing. 


CHAPTER   X 


THIS  was  the  summer  when  Mr.  Stephen  Brice  began 
to  make  his  appearance  in  public.  The  very  first  was 
rather  encouraging  than  otherwise,  although  they  were 
not  all  so.  It  was  at  a  little  town  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  city  where  those  who  had  come  to  scoff  and  jeer 
remained  to  listen. 

In  writing  that  speech  Stephen  had  striven  to  bear  in 
mind  a  piece  of  advice  which  Mr.  Lincoln  had  given  him : 
"  Speak  so  that  the  lowest  may  understand,  and  the  rest 
will  have  no  trouble."  And  it  had  worked.  At  the  halting 
lameness  of  the  beginning  an  egg  was  thrown,  —  fortunately 
wide  of  the  mark.  After  this  incident  Stephen  fairly 
astonished  his  audience,  —  especially  an  elderly  gentleman 
who  sat  on  a  cracker-box  in  the  rear,  out  of  sight  of  the 
stand.  This  may  have  been  Judge  Whipple,  although  we 
have  no  proof  of  the  fact. 

Stephen  himself  would  not  have  claimed  originality  for 
that  speech.  He  laughs  now  when  it  is  spoken  of,  and 
calls  it  a  boyish  effort,  which  it  was.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  many  of  the  master's  phrases  slipped  in,  as  young  Mr. 
Brice  could  repeat  most  of  the  Debates,  and  the  Cooper 
Union  speech  by  heart.  He  had  caught  more  than  the 
phrasing,  however.  So  imbued  was  he  with  the  spirit  of 
Abraham  Lincoln  that  his  hearers  caught  it;  and  that  was 
the  end  of  the  rotten  eggs  and  the  cabbages.  The  event 
is  to  be  especially  noted  because  they  crowded  around 
him  afterward  to  ask  questions.  For  one  thing,  he  had 
not  mentioned  abolition.  Wasn't  it  true,  then,  that  this 
Lincoln  wished  to  tear  the  negro  from  his  master,  give 
him  a  vote  and  a  subsidy,  and  set  him  up  as  the  equal  of 

205 


206  THE   CEISIS 

the  man  that  owned  him?  "Slavery  may  stay  where  it 
is,"  cried  the  young  orator.  "If  it  is  content  there,  so  are 
we  content.  What  we  say  is  that  it  shall  not  go  one  step 
farther.  No,  not  one  inch  into  a  northern  territory." 

On  the  next  occasion  Mr.  Brice  was  one  of  the  orators 
at  a  much  larger  meeting  in  a  garden  in  South  St.  Louis. 
The  audience  was  mostly  German.  And  this  was  even  a 
happier  event,  inasmuch  as  Mr.  Brice  was  able  to  trace 
with  some  skill  the  history  of  the  Fatherland  from  the 
Napoleonic  wars  to  its  Revolution.  Incidentally  he  told 
them  why  they  had  emigrated  to  this  great  and  free  coun 
try.  And  when  in  an  inspired  moment  he  coupled  the 
names  of  Abraham  Lincoln  and  Father  Jahn,  the  very 
leaves  of  the  trees  above  them  trembled  at  their  cheers. 

And  afterwards  there  was  a  long-remembered  supper 
in  the  moonlit  grove  with  Richter  and  a  party  of  his  col 
lege  friends  from  Jena.  There  was  Herr  Tiefel  with  the 
little  Dresden-blue  eyes,  red  and  round  and  jolly;  and 
Hauptmann,  long  and  thin  and  sallow;  and  Korner,  red- 
bearded  and  ponderous ;  and  Konig,  a  little  clean-cut  man 
with  a  blond  mustache  that  pointed  upward.  They 
clattered  their  steins  on  the  table  and  sang  wonderful 
Jena  songs,  while  Stephen  was  lifted  up  and  his  soul 
carried  off  to  far-away  Saxony,  —  to  the  clean  little  Uni 
versity  town  with  its  towers  and  crooked  streets.  And 
when  they  sang  the  Volksmelodie,  "  Bemooster  Bursche  zeili 
wh  ans,  —  Ade  I "  a  big  tear  rolled  down  the  scar  on  Richter's 
cheek. 

"  Fahrt  wohl,  ihr  Strassen  grad  und  krumm  ! 
Ich  zieh*  niclit  mehr  in  eucli  herum, 
Durchton  euch  niclit  mehr  mit  Gesang, 
Mil  Larm  nicht  mehr  und  Sporenklang" 

As  the  deep  tones  died  away,  the  soft  night  was  steeped 
in  the  sadness  of  that  farewell  song.  It  was  Richter  who 
brought  the  full  force  of  it  home  to  Stephen. 

"  Do  you  recall  the  day  you  left  your  Plarvard,  and  your 
Boston,  my  friend  ?  "  he  asked. 

Stephen  only    nodded.     He   had  never  spoken   of   the 


RICHTER'S   SCAB,  207 

bitterness  of  that,  even  to  his  mother.  And  here  was  the 
difference  between  the  Saxon  and  the  Anglo-Saxon. 

Richter  smoked  his  pipe  'mid  dreamy  silence,  the  tears 
still  wet  upon  his  face. 

"  Tiefel  and  I  were  at  the  University  together,"  he  said 
at  length.  "  He  remembers  the  day  I  left  Jena  for  good 
and  all.  Ah,  Stephen,  that  is  the  most  pathetic  thing  in 
life,  next  to  leaving  the  Fatherland.  We  dine  with  our 
student  club  for  the  last  time  at  the  Burg  Keller,  a  dingy 
little  tavern  under  a  grim  old  house,  but  very  dear  to  us. 
We  swear  for  the  last  time  to  be  clean  and  honorable  and 
patriotic,  and  to  die  for  the  Fatherland,  if  God  so  wills. 
And  then  we  march  at  the  head  of  a  slow  procession  out 
of  the  old  West  Gate,  two  and  two,  old  members  first,  then 
the  fox  major  and  the  foxes." 

"  The  foxes  ?  "  Stephen  interrupted. 

"The  youngsters  —  the  freshmen,  you  call  them,"  an 
swered  Richter,  smiling. 

"  And  after  the  foxes,"  said  Herr  Tiefel,  taking  up  the 
story,  "  after  the  foxes  comes  the  empty  carriage,  with  its 
gay  postilion  and  four.  It  is  like  a  long  funeral.  And  every 
man  is  chanting  that  song.  And  so  we  go  slowly  until  we 
come  to  the  Oil  Mill  Tavern,  where  we  have  had  many  a 
schlager-bout  with  the  aristocrats.  And  the  president  of 
our  society  makes  his  farewell  speech  under  the  vines,  and 
we  drink  to  you  with  all  the  honors.  And  we  drank  to 
you,  Gail,  renowned  swordsman!"  And  Herr  Tiefel, 
carried  away  by  the  recollection,  rose  to  his  feet. 

The  others  caught  fire,  and  stood  up  with  their  mugs 
high  in  the  air,  shouting :  — 

"  Lebe  wohl,  Carl !  Lebe  wohl !  Salamander,  salamander, 
salamander  !  Ein  ist  ein,  zwei  ist  zwei,  drei  ist  drei  !  Lebe 
wohl!" 

And  so  they  toasted  every  man  present,  even  Stephen 
himself,  whom  they  complimented  on  his  speech.  And  he 
soon  learned  to  cry  Salamander,  and  to  rub  his  mug  on  the 
table,  German  fashion.  He  was  not  long  in  discovering 
that  Richter  was  not  merely  a  prime  favorite  with  his 
companions,  but  likewise  a  person  of  some  political  impor- 


•208  THE   CKISIS 

tance  in  South  St.  Louis.  In  the  very  midst  of  their 
merriment  an  elderly  man  whom  Stephen  recognized  as 
one  of  the  German  leaders  (he  afterwards  became  a 
United  States  general)  came  and  stood  smiling  by  the 
table  and  joined  in  the  singing.  But  presently  he  carried 
Richter  away  with  him. 

"  What  a  patriot  he  would  have  made,  had  our  country 
been  spared  to  us  !  "  exclaimed  Herr  Konig.  "  I  think  he 
was  the  best  man  with  the  sMager  that  Jena  ever  saw. 
Even  Korner  likes  not  to  stand  against  him  in  mask  and 
fencing  hat,  all  padded.  Eh,  Rudolph  ?  " 

Herr  Korner  gave  a  good-natured  growl  of  assent. 

"  I  have  still  a  welt  that  he  gave  me  a  month  since,"  he 
said.  "  He  has  left  his  mark  011  many  an  aristocrat." 

"  And  why  did  you  always  fight  the  aristocrats  ? " 
Stephen  asked. 

They  all  tried  to  tell  him  at  once,  but  Tiefel  prevailed. 

"  Because  they  were  for  making  our  country  Austrian, 
my  friend,"  he  cried.  "  Because  they  were  overbearing, 
ar^d  ground  the  poor.  Because  the  most  of  them  were 
immoral  like  the  French,  and  we  knew  that  it  must  be  by 
morality  and  pure  living  that  our  Vaterland  was  to  .be  res 
cued.  And  so  we  formed  our  guilds  in  opposition  to  theirs. 
We  swore  to  live  by  the  standards  of  the  great  Jahn,  of 
whom  you  spoke.  We  swore  to  strive  for  the  freedom  of 
Germany  with  manly  courage.  And  when  we  were  not 
duelling  with  the  nobles,  we  had  sMager -bouts  among  our 
selves." 

"  Broadswords  ?  "  exclaimed  Stephen,  in  amazement. 

"  Ja  wohl"  answered  Korner,  puffing  heavily.  The  slit  in 
his  nose  was  plain  even  in  the  moonlight.  "  To  keep  our 
hands  in,  as  you  would  say.  You  Americans  are  a  brave 
people  —  without  the  sMager.  But  we  fought  that  we 
might  not  become  effete." 

It  was  then  that  Stephen  ventured  to  ask  a  question  that 
had  been  long  burning  within  him. 

uSee  here,  Mr.  Korner,"  said  he,  "how  did  Richter  come 
by  that  scar?  He  always  gets  red  when  I  mention  it.  He 
will  never  tell  me." 


RICHTER'S   SCAR  209 

"  Ah,  I  can  well  believe  that,"  answered  Korner.  "  I  will 
recount  that  matter,  —  if  you  do  not  tell  Carl,  lieber  Freund. 
He  would  not  forgive  me.  I  was  there  in  Berlin  at  the 
time.  It  was  a  famous  time.  Tiefel  will  bear  me  out." 

"<7#,  ja!"  said  Tiefel,  eagerly. 

"  Mr.  Brice,"  Herr  Korner  continued,  "  has  never  heard  of 
the  Count  von  Kalbach.  No,  of  course.  We  at  Jena  had, 
and  all  Germany.  Many  of  us  of  the  Burschenschaft  will 
bear  to  the  grave  the  marks  of  his  schldger.  Von  Kalbach 
went  to  Bonn,  that  university  of  the  aristocrats,  where  he 
was  worshipped.  When  he  came  to  Berlin  with  his  sister, 
crowds  would  gather  to  look  at  them.  They  were  like 
Woden  and  Freya.  Donnerf"  exclaimed  Herr  Korner, 
"  there  is  something  in  blood,  when  all  is  said.  He  was 
as  straight  and  strong  as  an  oak  of  the  Black  Forest,  and 
she  as  fair  as  a  poplar.  It  is  so  with  the  Pomeranians. 

"  It  was  in  the  year  '47,  when  Carl  Richter  was  gone 
home  to  Berlin  before  his  last  semester,  to  see  his  father. 
One  fine  morning  von  Kalbach  rode  in  at  the  Branden 
burg  gate  on  a  great  black  stallion.  He  boasted  openly 
that  day  that  none  of  the  despised  Burschenschaft  dare 
stand  before  him.  And  Carl  Richter  took  up  the  chal 
lenge.  Before  night  all  Berlin  had  heard  of  the  temerity 
of  the  young  Liberal  of  the  Jena  Burschenschaft.  To  our 
shame  be  it  said,  we  who  knew  and  loved  Carl  likewise 
feared  for  him. 

"  Carl  chose  for  his  second  Ebhardt,  a  man  of  our  own 
Germanian  Club  at  Jena,  since  killed  in  the  Breite 
Strasse.  And  if  you  will  believe  me,  my  friend,  I  tell  you 
that  Richter  came  to  the  glade  at  daybreak  smoking  his 
pipe.  The  place  was  filled,  the  nobles  on  one  side  and  the 
Burschenschaft  on  the  other,  and  the  sun  coming  up  over 
the  trees.  Richter  would  not  listen  to  any  of  us,  not  even 
the  surgeon.  He  would  not  have  the  silk  wound  on  his 
arm,  nor  the  padded  breeches,  nor  the  neck  covering. 
Nothing!  So  Ebhardt  put  on  his  gauntlets  and  peaked 
cap,  and  his  apron  with  the  device  of  the  Germanians. 

"  There  stood  the  Count  in  his  white  shirt  in  the  pose  of 
a  statue.  And  when  it  was  seen  that  Richter  likewise  had 


210  THE   CRISIS 

no  protection,  but  was  calmly  smoking  the  little  short  pipe 
with  a  charred  bowl,  a  hush  fell  upon  all.  At  the  sight  of 
the  pipe  von  Kalbach  ground  his  heel  in  the  turf,  and 
when  the  word  was  given  he  rushed  at  Richter  like  a  wild 
beast.  You,  my  friend,  who  have  never  heard  the  whistle 
of  sharp  schlager  cannot  know  the  song  which  a  skilled 
arm  draws  from  the  blade.  It  was  music  that  morning. 
You  should  have  seen  the  noble's  mighty  strokes  —  Prim 
und  Second  und  Terz  und  Quart.  You  would  have  marked 
how  Richter  met  him  at  every  blow.  Von  Kalbach  never 
once  took  his  eyes  from  the  blue  smoke  from  the  bowl. 
He  was  terrible  in  his  fury,  and  I  shiver  now  to  think  how 
we  of  the  Burchenschaft  trembled  when  we  saw  that  our 
champion  was  driven  back  a  step,  and  then  another.  You 
must  know  that  it  is  a  lasting  disgrace  to  be  forced  over 
one's  own  line.  It  seemed  as  if  we  could  not  bear  the 
agony.  And  then,  while  we  counted  out  the  last  seconds 
of  the  half,  came  a  snap  like  that  of  a  whip's  lash,  — 
and  the  bowl  of  Richter's  pipe  lay  smouldering  on  the 
grass.  The  noble  had  cut  the  stem  as  clean  as  it  were 
a  sapling  twig,  and  there  stood  Richter  with  the  piece  still 
clenched  in  his  teeth,  his  eyes  ablaze,  and  his  cheek  run 
ning  blood.  He  pushed  the  surgeon  away  when  he  came 
forward  with  his  needles.  The  Count  was  smiling  as  he 
put  up  his  sword,  his  friends  crowding  around  him,  when 
Ebhardt  cried  out  that  his  man  could  fight  the  second 
mensur,  — though  the  wound  was  three  needles  long.  Then 
Kalbach  cried  aloud  that  he  would  kill  him.  But  he 
had  not  seen  Carl's  eyes.  Something  was  in  them  that 
made  us  think  as  we  washed  the  cut.  But  when  we  spoke 
to  him  he  said  nothing.  Nor  could  we  force  the  pipe  stem 
from  his  teeth. 

"  Donner  Schock!"  exclaimed  Herr  Kb'rner,  but  rever 
ently,  "if  I  live  to  a  hundred  I  never  hope  to  see  such 
a  sight  as  that  mensur.  The  word  was  given.  The  schlager 
flew  so  fast  that  we  only  saw  the  light  and  heard  the  ring 
alone.  Before  Ave  of  the  Burschenschaft  knew  what  had 
happened  the  Count  von  Kalbach  was  over  his  line  and  had 
flung  his  schlager  into  a  great  tree,  and  was  striding  from 


RICHTER'S   SCAB  211 

the  place  with  his  head  hung  and  the  tears  streaming  down 
his  face." 

Amid  a  silence,  Herr  Korner  lifted  his  great  mug  and 
emptied  it  slowly.  A  wind  was  rising,  bearing  with  it 
song  and  laughter  from  distant  groups,  —  Teutonic  song  and 
laughter.  The  moonlight  trembled  through  the  shifting 
leaves.  And  Stephen  was  filled  with  a  sense  of  the  marvel 
lous.  It  was  as  if  this  fierce  duel,  so  full  of  national  sig 
nificance  to  a  German,  had  been  fought  in  another  existence. 
It  was  incredible  to  him  that  the  unassuming  lawyer  he 
knew,  so  wholly  Americanized,  had  been  the  hero  of  it. 
Strange,  indeed,  that  the  striving  life  of  these  leaders  of  a 
European  Revolution  had  been  suddenly  cut  off  in  its 
vigor.  There  came  to  Stephen  a  flash  of  that  world-com 
prehension  which  marks  great  statesmen.  Was  it  not  with 
a  divine  purpose  that  this  measureless  force  of  patriotism 
and  high  ideal  had  been  given  to  this  youngest  of  the 
nations,  that  its  high  mission  might  be  fulfilled? 

Miss  Russell  heard  of  Stephen's  speeches.  She  and  her 
brothers  and  Jack  Brinsmade  used  to  banter  him  when  he 
came  a-visiting  in  Bellefontaine  Road.  The  time  was  not 
yet  come  when  neighbor  stared  coldly  upon  neighbor,  when 
friends  of  long  standing  passed  each  other  with  averted 
looks.  It  was  not  even  a  wild  dream  that  white-trash 
Lincoln  would  be  elected.  And  so  Mr.  Jack,  who  made 
speeches  for  Breckinridge  in  the  face  of  Mr.  Brins- 
made's  Union  leanings,  laughed  at  Stephen  when  he 
came  to  spend  the  night.  He  joined  forces  with  Puss  in 
making  clever  fun  of  the  booby  Dutch,  which  Stephen  was 
wise  enough  to  take  good-naturedly.  But  once  or  twice 
when  he  met  Clarence  Colfax  at  these  houses  he  was  aware 
of  a  decided  change  in  the  attitude  of  that  young  gentle 
man.  -This  troubled  him  more  than  he  cared  to  admit. 
For  he  liked  Clarence,  who  reminded  him  of  Virginia  —  at 
once  a  pleasure  and  a  pain. 

It  is  no  harm  to  admit  (for  the  benefit  of  the  Society 
for  Psychical  Research)  that  Stephen  still  dreamed  of 
her.  He  would  go  about  his  work  absently  all  the  morn- 


212  THE   CRISIS 

ing  with  the  dream  still  in  his  head,  and  the  girl  so  vividly 
near  him  that  he  could  not  believe  her  to  be  travelling  in 
England,  as  Miss  Russell  said.  Puss  and  Anne  were  care 
ful  to  keep  him  informed  as  to  her  whereabouts.  Stephen 
set  this  down  as  a  most  natural  supposition  on  their  part 
that  all  young  men  must  have  an  interest  in  Virginia 
Carvel. 

How  needless  to  add  that  Virginia  in  her  correspondence 
never  mentioned  Stephen,  although  Puss  in  her  letters  took 
pains  to  record  the  fact  every  time  that  he  addressed  a 
Black  Republican  meeting.  Miss  Carvel  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  this  part  of  the  communications.  Her  concern 
for  Judge  Whipple  Virginia  did  not  hide.  Anne  wrote 
of  him.  How  he  stood  the  rigors  of  that  campaign  were 
a  mystery  to  friend  and  foe  alike. 


CHAPTER   XI 

HOW   A   PRINCE  CAME 

WHO  has  not  heard  of  the  St.  Louis  Agricultural  Fair? 
And  what  memories  of  its  October  days  the  mere  mention 
of  it  brings  back  to  us  who  knew  that  hallowed  place  as 
children.  There  was  the  vast  wooden  amphitheatre  where 
mad  trotting  races  were  run ;  where  stolid  cattle  walked 
past  the  Chinese  pagoda  in  the  middle  circle,  and  shook 
the  blue  ribbons  on  their  horns.  But  it  was  underneath 
the  tiers  of  seats  (the  whole  way  around  the  ring)  that  the 
chief  attractions  lay  hid.  These  were  the  church  booths, 
where  fried  oysters  and  sandwiches  and  cake  and  white 
candy  and  ice-cream  were  sold  by  your  mothers  and  sisters 
for  charity.  These  ladies  wore  white  aprons  as  they  waited 
on  the  burly  farmers.  And  toward  the  close  of  the  day 
for  which  they  had  volunteered  they  became  distracted. 
Christ  Church  had  a  booth,  and  St.  George's;  and  Dr. 
Thayer's,  Unitarian,  where  Mrs.  Brice  might  be  found; 
and  Mr.  Davitt's,  conducted  by  Mr.  Eliphalet  Hopper  on 
strictly  business  principles ;  and  the  Roman  Catholic  Cathe 
dral,  where  Miss  Renault  and  other  young  ladies  of  French 
descent  presided ;  and  Dr.  Posthelwaite's,  Presbyterian, 
which  we  shall  come  to  presently.  And  others,  the  whole 
way  around  the  ring. 

There  is  one  Fair  which  old  St.  Louisans  still  delight  to 
recall,  — that  of  the  autumn  of  1860.  Think  for  a  minute. 
You  will  remember  that  Virginia  Carvel  came  back  from 
Europe,  and  made  quite  a  stir  in  a  town  where  all  who 
were  worth  knowing  were  intimates.  Stephen  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  on  the  street,  received  a  distant  bow,  and 
dreamed  of  her  that  night.  Mr.  Eliphalet  Hopper,  in  his 
Sunday  suit,  was  at  the  ferry  to  pay  his  respects  to  the 

213 


214  THE   CRISIS 

Colonel,  to  offer  his  services,  and  to  tell  him  how  the  busi 
ness  fared.  His  was  the  first  St.  Louis  face  that  Virginia 
saw  (Captain  Lige  being  in  New  Orleans),  and  if  she  con 
versed  with  Eliphalet  on  the  ferry  with  more  warmth  than 
ever  before,  there  is  nothing  strange  in  that.  Mr.  Hopper 
rode  home  with  them  in  the  carriage,  and  walked  to  Miss 
Crane's  with  his  heart  thumping  against  his  breast,  and 
wild  thoughts  whirling  in  his  head. 

The  next  morning,  in  Virginia's  sunny  front  room,  tears 
and  laughter  mingled.  There  was  a  present  for  Eugenie 
and  Anne  and  Emily  and  Puss  and  Maude,  and  a  hearty 
kiss  from  the  Colonel  for  each.  And  more  tears  and 
laughter  and  sighs  as  Mammy  Easter  and  Rosetta  un 
packed  the  English  trunks,  and  with  trembling  hands  and 
rolling  eyes  laid  each  Parisian  gown  upon  the  bed. 

But  the  Fair,  the  Fair! 

At  the  thought  of  that  glorious  year  my  pen  fails  me. 
Why  mention  the  dread  possibility  of  the  negro-worshipper 
Lincoln  being  elected  the  very  next  month?  Why  listen 
to  the  rumblings  in  the  South?  Pompeii  had  chariot- 
races  to  the  mutterings  of  Vesuvius.  St.  Louis  was  in 
gala  garb  to  greet  a  Prince. 

That  was  the  year  that  Miss  Virginia  Carvel  was  given 
charge  of  the  booth  in  Dr.  Posthelwaite's  church,  —  the 
booth  next  one  of  the  great  arches  through  which  pranc 
ing  horses  and  lowing  cattle  came. 

Now  who  do  you  think  stopped  at  the  booth  for  a  chat 
with  Miss  Jinny?  Who  made  her  blush  as  pink  as  her 
Paris  gown?  Who  slipped  into  her  hand  the  contribution 
for  the  church,  and  refused  to  take  the  cream  candy  she 
laughingly  offered  him  as  an  equivalent  ? 

None  other  than  Albert  Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  Duke 
of  Saxony,  Duke  of  Cornwall  and  Rothesay,  Earl  of 
Chester  and  Carrick,  Baron  Renfrew,  and  Lord  of  the 
Isles.  Out  of  compliment  to  the  Republic  which  he 
visited,  he  bore  the  simple  title  of  Lord  Renfrew. 

Bitter  tears  of  envy,  so  it  was  said,  were  shed  in  the 
other  booths.  Belle  Cluyme  made  a  remark  which  is 
best  suppressed.  Eliphalet  Hopper,  in  Mr.  Davitt's 


HOW   A   PRINCE   CAME  215 

booths,  stared  until  his  eyes  watered.  A  great  throng 
peered  into  the  covered  way,  kept  clear  for  his  Royal 
Highness  and  suite,  and  for  the  prominent  gentlemen  who 
accompanied  them.  And  when  the  Prince  was  seen  to 
turn  to  His  Grace,  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  and  the  sub 
scription  was  forthcoming,  a  great  cheer  shook  the  build 
ing,  while  Virginia  and  the  young  ladies  with  her  bowed 
and  blushed  and  smiled.  Colonel  Carvel,  who  was  a 
Director,  laid  his  hand  paternally  on  the  blue  coat  of  the 
young  Prince.  Reversing  all  precedent,  he  presented  his 
Royal  Highness  to  his  daughter  and  to  the  other  young 
ladies.  It  was  done  with  the  easy  grace  of  a  Southern 
gentleman.  Whereupon  Lord  Renfrew  bowed  and  smiled 
too,  and  stroked  his  mustache,  which  was  a  habit  he  had, 
and  so  fell  naturally  into  the  ways  of  Democracy. 

Miss  Puss  Russell,  who  has  another  name,  and  whose 
hair  is  now  white,  will  tell  you  how  Virginia  carried  off 
the  occasion  with  credit  to  her  country. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  the  Prince  forgot  "  Silver  Heels  " 
and  "  Royal  Oak,"  although  they  had  been  trotted  past 
the  Pagoda  only  that  morning  for  his  delectation.  He 
had  forgotten  his  Honor  the  Mayor,  who  had  held  fast 
to  the  young  man's  arm  as  the  four  coal-black  horses  had 
pranced  through  the  crowds  all  the  way  from  Barnum's 
Hotel  to  the  Fair  Grounds.  His  Royal  Highness  forgot 
himself  still  further,  and  had  at  length  withdrawn  his 
hands  from  the  pockets  of  his  ample  pantaloons  and  thrust 
his  thumbs  into  his  yellow  waistcoat.  And  who  shall 
blame  him  if  Miss  Virginia's  replies  to  his  sallies  enchained 
him? 

Not  the  least  impressive  of  those  who  stood  by,  smiling, 
was  the  figure  of  the  tall  Colonel,  his  hat  off  for  once,  and 
pride  written  on  his  face.  Oh,  that  his  dear  wife  might 
have  lived  to  see  this  ! 

What  was  said  in  that  historic  interview  with  a  future 
Sovereign  of  England,  far  from  his  royal  palaces,  on 
Democratic  sawdust,  with  an  American  Beauty  across  a 
board  counter,  was  immediately  recorded  by  the  Colonel, 
together  with  an  exact  description  of  his  Royal  Highness's 


216  THE   CRISIS 

blue  coat,  and  light,  flowing  pantaloons,  and  yellow  waist 
coat,  and  colored  kids ;  even  the  Prince's  habit  of  strok 
ing  his  mustache  did  not  escape  the  watchful  eye.  It  is 
said  that  his  Grace  of  Newcastle  smiled  twice  at  Miss 
Virginia's  retorts,  and  Lord  Lyons,  the  British  Minister, 
has  more  than  two  to  his  credit.  But  suddenly  a  strange 
thing  happened.  Miss  Virginia  in  the  very  midst  of  a 
sentence  paused,  and  then  stopped.  Her  eyes  had  strayed 
from  the  Royal  Countenance,  and  were  fixed  upon  a  point 
in  the  row  of  heads  outside  the  promenade.  Her  sentence 
was  completed  —  with  some  confusion.  Perhaps  it  is  no 
wonder  that  my  Lord  Renfrew,  whose  intuitions  are  quick, 
remarked  that  he  had  already  remained  too  long,  thus 
depriving  the  booth  of  the  custom  it  otherwise  should 
have  had.  This  was  a  graceful  speech,  and  a  kingly. 
Followed  by  his  retinue  and  the  prominent  citizens,  he 
moved  on.  And  it  was  remarked  by  keen  observers  that 
his  Honor  the  Mayor  had  taken  hold  once  more  of  the 
Prince's  elbow,  who  divided  his  talk  with  Colonel  Carvel. 
Dear  Colonel  Carvel !  What  a  true  American  of  the 
old  type  you  were.  You,  nor  the  Mayor,  nor  the  rest 
of  the  grave  and  elderly  gentlemen  were  not  blinded 
by  the  light  of  a  royal  Presence.  You  saw  in  him  only 
an  amiable  and  lovable  young  man,  who  was  to  succeed 
the  most  virtuous  and  lovable  of  sovereigns,  Victoria. 
You,  Colonel  Carvel,  were  not  one  to  cringe  to  royalty. 
Out  of  respect  for  the  just  and  lenient  Sovereign,  his 
mother,  you  did  honor  to  the  Prince.  But  you  did 
not  remind  him,  as  you  might  have,  that  your  ances 
tors  fought  for  the  King  at  Mars  ton  Moor,  and  that  your 
grandfather  was  once  an  intimate  of  Charles  James  Fox. 
But  what  shall  we  say  of  Mr.  Cluyme,  and  of  a  few  others 
whose  wealth  alone  enabled  them  to  be  Directors  of  the 
Fair?  Miss  Isabel  Cluyme  was  duly  presented,  in  proper 
form,  to  his  Royal  Highness.  Her  father  owned  a  "peer 
age,"  and  had  been  abroad  likewise.  He  made  no  such 
bull  as  the  Colonel.  And  while  the  celebrated  conversa 
tion  of  which  we  have  spoken  was  in  progress,  Mr.  Cluyme 
stood  back  and  blushed  for  his  countryman,  and  smiled 


HOW   A   PRINCE   CAME  217 

apologetically  at  the  few  gentlemen  of  the  royal  suite  who 
glanced  his  way. 

His  Royal  Highness  then  proceeded  to  luncheon,  which 
is  described  by  a  most  amiable  Canadian  correspondent 
who  sent  to  his  newspaper  an  account  of  it  that  I  cannot 
forbear  to  copy.  You  may  believe  what  he  says,  or  not, 
just  as  you  choose :  "So  interested  was  his  Royal  Highness 
in  the  proceedings  that  he  stayed  in  the  ring  three  and 
a  half  hours  witnessing  these  trotting  matches.  He  was 
invited  to  take  lunch  in  a  little  wooden  shanty  prepared 
for  the  Directors,  to  which  he  accordingly  repaired,  but 
whether  he  got  anything  to  eat  or  not,  I  cannot  tell. 
After  much  trouble  he  forced  his  way  to  the  table,  which 
he  found  surrounded  by  a  lot  of  ravenous  animals.  And 
upon  some  half  dozen  huge  dishes  were  piled  slices  of 
beef,  mutton,  and  buffalo  tongue ;  beside  them  were  great 
jugs  of  lager  beer,  rolls  of  bread,  and  plates  of  a  sort  of 
cabbage  cut  into  thin  shreds,  raw,  and  mixed  with  vinegar. 
There  were  neither  salt  spoons  nor  mustard  spoons,  the 
knives  the  gentlemen  were  eating  with  serving  in  their 
stead ;  and,  by  the  aid  of  nature's  forks,  the  slices  of  beef 
and  mutton  were  transferred  to  the  plates  of  those  who 
desired  to  eat.  While  your  correspondent  stood  looking 
at  the  spectacle,  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  came  in,  and  he 
sat  looking  too.  He  was  evidently  trying  to  look  demo 
cratic,  but  could  not  manage  it.  By  his  side  stood  a  man 
urging  him  to  try  the  lager  beer,  and  cabbage  also,  I  sup 
pose.  Henceforth,  let  the  New  York  Aldermen  who  gave 
to  the  Turkish  Ambassador  ham  sandwiches  and  bad  sherry 
rest  in  peace." 

Even  that  great  man  whose  memory  we  love  and  revere, 
Charles  Dickens,  was  not  overkind  to  us,  and  saw  our 
faults  rather  than  our  virtues.  We  were  a  nation  of  grass 
hoppers,  and  spat  tobacco  from  early  morning  until  late  at 
night.  This  some  of  us  undoubtedly  did,  to  our  shame  be 
it  said.  And  when  Mr.  Dickens  went  down  the  Ohio, 
early  in  the  '40's,  he  complained  of  the  men  and  women 
he  met;  who,  bent  with  care,  bolted  through  silent  meals, 
and  retired  within  their  cabins.  Mr.  Dickens  saw  our 


218  THE   CRISIS 

ancestors  bowed  in  a  task  that  had  been  too  great  for 
other  blood, —  the  task  of  bringing  into  civilization  in  the 
compass  of  a  century  a  wilderness  three  thousand  miles  in 
breadth.  And  when  his  Royal  Highness  came  to  St.  Louis 
and  beheld  one  hundred  thousand  people  at  the  Fair,  we 
are  sure  that  he  knew  how  recently  the  ground  he  stood 
upon  had  been  conquered  from  the  forest. 

A  strange  thing  had  happened,  indeed.  For,  while  the 
Prince  lingered  in  front  of  the  booth  of  Dr.  Posthelwaite's 
church  and  chatted  with  Virginia,  a  crowd  had  gathered 
without.  They  stood  peering  over  the  barricade  into  the 
covered  way,  proud  of  the  self-possession  of  their  young 
countrywoman.  And  here,  by  a  twist  of  fate,  Mr.  Stephen 
Brice  found  himself  perched  on  a  barrel  beside  his  friend 
Richter.  It  was  Richter  who  discovered  her  first. 

"  Himmel !  It  is  Miss  Carvel  herself,  Stephen,"  he  cried, 
impatient  at  the  impassive  face  of  his  companion.  "Look, 
Stephen,  look  there." 

"  Yes,"  said  Stephen,  "  I  see." 

"  Ach  !  "  exclaimed  the  disgusted  German,  "  will  nothing 
move  you  ?  I  have  seen  German  princesses  that  are 
peasant  women  beside  her.  How  she  carries  it  off !  See, 
the  Prince  is  laughing !  " 

Stephen  saw,  and  horror  held  him  in  a  tremor.  His 
one  thought  was  of  escape.  What  if  she  should  raise  her 
eyes,  and  amid  those  vulgar  stares  discern  his  own  ?  And 
yet  that  was  within  him  which  told  him  that  she  would 
look  up.  It  was  only  a  question  of  moments,  and  then,  — 
and  then  she  would  in  truth  despise  him !  Wedged 
tightly  between  the  people,  to  move  was  to  be  betrayed. 
He  groaned. 

Suddenly  he  rallied,  ashamed  of  his  own  false  shame. 
This  was  because  of  one  whom  he  had  known  for  the  short 
space  of  a  day  —  whom  he  was  to  remember  for  a  lifetime. 
The  man  he  worshipped,  and  she  detested.  Abraham 
Lincoln  would  not  have  blushed  between  honest  clerks  and 
farmers.  Why  should  Stephen  Brice  ?  And  what,  after 
all,  was  this  girl  to  him  ?  He  could  not  tell.  Almost  the 


HOW   A   PRINCE   CAME  219 

first  day  he  had  come  to  St.  Louis  the  threads  of  their  lives 
had  crossed,  and  since  then  had  crossed  many  times  again, 
always  with  a  spark.  By  the  might  of  generations  she 
was  one  thing,  and  he  another.  They  were  separated  by 
a  vast  and  ever-widening  breach  only  to  be  closed  by  the 
blood  and  bodies  of  a  million  of  their  countrymen.  And 
yet  he  dreamed  of  her. 

Gradually,  charmed  like  the  simple  people  about  him, 
Stephen  became  lost  in  the  fascination  of  the  scene.  Sud 
denly  confronted  at  a  booth  in  a  public  fair  with  the  heir 
to  the  English  throne,  who  but  one  of  her  own  kind  might 
have  carried  it  off  so  well,  have  been  so  complete  a  mistress 
of  herself?  Since,  save  for  a  heightened  color,  Virginia 
gave  no  sign  of  excitement.  Undismayed,  forgetful  of  the 
admiring  crowd,  unconscious  of  their  stares  until — until 
the  very  strength  of  his  gaze  had  compelled  her  own. 
Such  had  been  the  prophecy  within  him.  Nor  did  he 
wonder  because,  in  that  multitude  of  faces,  her  eyes  had 
flown  so  straightly  homeward  to  his. 

With  a  rough  effort  that  made  an  angry  stir,  Stephen 
flung  the  people  aside  and  escaped,  the  astonished  Richter 
following  in  his  wake.  Nor  could  the  honest  German  dis 
suade  him  from  going  back  to  the  office  for  the  rest  of  the 
day,  or  discover  what  had  happened. 

But  all  through  the  afternoon  that  scene  was  painted  on 
the  pages  of  Stephen's  books.  The  crude  booth  in  the 
darkened  way.  The  free  pose  of  the  girl  standing  in  front 
of  her  companions,  a  blue  wisp  of  autumn  sunlight  falling 
at  her  feet.  The  young  Prince  laughing  at  her  sallies,  and 
the  elderly  gentleman  smiling  with  benevolence  upon  the 
pair. 


CHAPTER   XII 

INTO    WHICH    A   POTENTATE   COMES 

VIRGINIA  danced  with  the  Prince,  "by  Special  Appoint 
ment,"  at  the  ball  that  evening.  So  did  her  aunt,  Mrs. 
Addison  Colfax.  So  likewise  was  Miss  Belle  Cluyme 
among  those  honored  and  approved.  But  Virginia  wore 
the  most  beautiful  of  her  Paris  gowns,  and  seemed  a 
princess  to  one  watching  from  the  gallery.  Stephen  was 
sure  that  his  Royal  Highness  made  that  particular  dance 
longer  than  the  others.  It  was  decidedly  longer  than 
the  one  he  had  with  Miss  Cluyme,  although  that  young 
lady  had  declared  she  was  in  heaven. 

Alas,  that  princes  cannot  abide  with  us  forever !  His 
Royal  Highness  bade  farewell  to  St.  Louis,  and  presently 
that  same  City  of-  Alton  which  bore  him  northward  came 
back  again  in  like  royal  state,  and  this  time  it  was  in  honor 
of  a  Democrat  potentate.  He  is  an  old  friend  now,  Senator 
and  Judge  and  Presidential  Candidate,  —  Stephen  Arnold 
Douglas,  —  father  of  the  doctrine  of  Local  Sovereignty, 
which  he  has  come  to  preach.  So  goes  the  world.  We 
are  no  sooner  rid  of  one  hero  than  we  are  ready  for 
another. 

Blow,  you  bandsmen  on  the  hurricane  deck,  let  the 
shores  echo  with  your  national  airs !  Let  the  gay  bunt 
ing  wave  in  the  river  breeze !  Uniforms  flash  upon  the 
guards,  for  no  campaign  is  complete  without  the  military. 
Here  are  brave  companies  of  the  Douglas  Guards,  the 
Hickory  Sprouts,  and  the  Little  Giants  to  do  honor  to  the 
person  of  their  hero.  Cannon  are  booming  as  he  steps 
into  his  open  carriage  that  evening  on  the  levee,  where 
the  piles  of  river  freight  are  covered  with  people.  Trans 
parencies  are  dodging  in  the  darkness.  A  fresh  band 
strikes  up  "  Hail  Columbia,"  and  the  four  horses  prance 

220 


INTO   WHICH   A   POTENTATE   COMES          221 

away,  followed  closely  by  the  "  Independent  Broom 
Rangers."  "  The  shouts  for  Douglas,"  remarked  a  keen 
observer  who  was  present,  "must  have  penetrated  Abra 
ham's  bosom  at  Springfield." 

Mr.  Jacob  Cluyme,  who  had  been  a  Bell  and.  Everett 
man  until  that  day,  was  not  the  only  person  of  promi 
nence  converted.  After  the  speech  he  assured  the  Judge 
that  he  was  now  undergoing  the  greatest  pleasure  of  his 
life  in  meeting  the  popular  orator,  the  true  representative 
man  of  the  Great  AVest,  the  matured  statesman,  and  the 
able  advocate  of  national  principles.  And  although  Mr. 
Douglas  looked  as  if  he  had  heard  something  of  the  kind 
before,  he  pressed  Mr.  Cluyrne's  hand  warmly. 

So  was  the  author  of  Popular  Sovereignty,  "  the  great 
Bulwark  of  American  Independence,"  escorted  to  the 
Court  House  steps,  past  houses  of  his  stanch  supporters, 
which  were  illuminated  in  his  honor.  Stephen,  wedged 
among  the  people,  remarked  that  the  Judge  had  lost  none 
of  his  self-confidence  since  that  day  at  Freeport.  Who, 
seeing  the  Democratic  candidate  smiling  and  bowing  to 
the  audience  that  blocked  the  wide  square,  would  guess 
that  the  Question  troubled  him  at  all,  or  that  he  missed 
the  votes  of  the  solid  South.?  How  gravely  the  Judge 
listened  to  the  eulogy  of  the  prominent  citizen,  who  re 
minded  him  that  his  work  was  not  yet  finished,  and  that 
he  still  \vas  harnessed  to  the  cause  of  the  people !  And 
how  happy  was  the  choice  of  that  word  harnessed  ! 

The  Judge  had  heard  (so  he  said)  with  deep  emotion 
the  remarks  of  the  chairman.  Then  followed  one  of  those 
masterful  speeches  which  wove  a  spell  about  those  who 
listened,  —  which,  like  the  most  popular  of  novels,  moved 
to  laughter  and  to  tears,  to  anger  and  to  pity.  Mr.  Brice 
and  Mr  Richter  were  not  the  only  Black  Republicans  who 
were  depressed  that  night.  And  they  trudged  homeward 
with  the  wild  enthusiasm  still  ringing  in  their  ears,  heavy 
with  the  thought  that  the  long,  hot  campaign  of  their  own 
Wide-Awakes  might  be  in  vain. 

They  had  a  grim  reproof  from  Judge  Whipple  in  the 
morning. 


222  THE   CRISIS 

"  So  you  too,  gentlemen,  took  opium  last  night,"  was 
all  he  said. 

The  dreaded  possibility  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  election  did 
not  interfere  with  the  gayeties.  The  week  after  the  Fair 
Mr.  Clarence  Colfax  gave  a  great  dance  at  Bellegarde, 
in  honor  of  his  cousin,  Virginia,  to  which  Mr.  Stephen 
Brice  was  not  invited.  A  majority  of  Company  A  was  there. 
Virginia  would  have  liked  to  have  had  them  in  uniform. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Anne  Brinsmade  took  the 
notion  of  having  a  ball  in  costume.  Virginia,  on  hear 
ing  the  news,  rode  over  from  Bellegarde,  and  flinging  her 
reins  to  Nicodemus  ran  up  to  Anne's  little  dressing-room. 

"  Whom  have  you  invited,  Anne  ?  "  she  demanded. 

Anne  ran  over  the  long  list  of  their  acquaintance,  but 
there  was  one  name  she  omitted. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  that  is  all  ?  "  asked  Virginia,  search- 
ingly,  when  she  had  finished. 

Anne  looked  mystified. 

"  I  have  invited  Stephen  Brice,  Jinny,"  she  said. 
"But  —  " 

"But!"  cried  Virginia.  "I  knew  it.  Am  I  to  be  con 
fronted  with  that  Yankee  everywhere  I  go?  It  is  always 
4  Stephen  Brice,'  and  he  is  ushered  in  with  a  but." 

Anne  was  quite  overcome  by  this  outburst.  She  had 
dignity,  however,  and  plenty  of  it.  And  she  was  a  loyal 
friend. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  criticise  my  guests,  Virginia." 

Virginia,  seated  on  the  arm  of  a  chair,  tapped  her  foot 
on  the  floor. 

"  Why  couldn't  things  remain  as  they  were  ?  "  she  said. 
"  We  were  so  happy  before  these  Yankees  came.  And 
they  are  not  content  in  trying  to  deprive  us  of  our  rights. 
They  must  spoil  our  pleasure,  too." 

"Stephen  Brice  is  a  gentleman,"  answered  Anne.  "  He 
spoils  no  one's  pleasure,  and  goes  no  place  that  he  is  not 
asked." 

"  He  has  not  behaved  according  to  my  idea  of  a  gentle 
man,  the  few  times  that  I  have  been  unfortunate  enough 
to  encounter  him,"  Virginia  retorted. 


INTO   WHICH   A   POTENTATE   COMES          223 

"  You  are  the  only  one  who  says  so,  then."  Here  the 
feminine  got  the  better  of  Anne's  prudence,  and  she  added  : 
"  I  saw  you  waltz  with  him  once,  Jinny  Carvel,  and  I  am 
sure  you  never  enjoyed  a  dance  as  much  in  your  life." 

Virginia  blushed  purple. 

"  Anne  Brinsmade  !  "  she  cried.  "  You  may  have  your 
ball,  and  your  Yankees,  all  of  them  you  want.  But  I 
shan't  come.  How  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  that  horrid 
Stephen  Brice !  Then  vou  would  never  have  insulted 


me." 


Virginia  rose  and  snatched  her  riding-whip.  This  was 
too  much  for  Anne.  She  threw  her  arms  around  her  friend 
without  more  ado. 

"  Don't  quarrel  with  me,  Jinny,"  she  said  tearfully.  "  I 
couldn't  bear  it.  He — Mr.  Brice  is  not  coming,  I  am 
sure." 

Virginia  disengaged  herself. 

"  He  is  not  coming?" 

"  No,"  said  Anne.  "  You  asked  me  if  he  was  invited. 
And  I  was  going  on  to  tell  you  that  he  could  not  come." 

She  stopped,  and  stared  at  Virginia  in  bewilderment. 
That  young  lady,  instead  of  beaming,  had  turned  her  back. 
She  stood  flicking  her  whip  at  the  window,  gazing  out  over 
the  trees,  down  the  slope  to  the  river.  Miss  Russell  might 
have  interpreted  these  things.  Simple  Anne ! 

"Why  isn't  he  coming?"  said  Virginia,  at  last. 

"  Because  he  is  to  be  one  of  the  speakers  at  a  big  meet 
ing  that  night.  Have  you  seen  him  since  you  got  home, 
Jinny?  He  is  thinner  than  he  was.  We  are  much  wor 
ried  about  him,  because  he  has  worked  so  hard  this 
summer." 

"  A  Black  Republican  meeting !  "  exclaimed  Virginia, 
scornfully  ignoring  the  rest  of  what  was  said.  "Then  I'll 
come,  Anne  dear,"  she  cried,  tripping  the  length  of  the 
room.  "  I'll  come  as  Titania.  Who  will  you  be  ?  " 

She  cantered  off  down  the  drive  and  out  of  the  gate, 
leaving  a  very  puzzled  young  woman  watching  her  from 
the  window.  But  when  Virginia  reached  the  forest  at  the 
bend  of  the  road,  she  pulled  her  horse  down  to  a  walk. 


224  THE   CRISIS 

She  bethought  herself  of  the  gown  which  her  Uncle  Daniel 
had  sent  her  from  Calvert  House,  and  of  the  pearls.  And 
she  determined  to  go  as  her  great-grandmother,  Dorothy 
Carvel. 

Shades  of  romance !  How  many  readers  will  smile 
before  the  rest  of  this  true  incident  is  told? 

What  had  happened  was  this.  Miss  Anne  Brinsmade 
had  driven  to  town  in  her  mother's  Jenny  Lind  a  day  or 
two  before,  and  had  stopped  (as  she  often  did)  to  pay  a 
call  on  Mrs.  Brice.  This  lady,  as  may  be  guessed,  was 
not  given  to  discussion  of  her  husband's  ancestors,  nor  of 
her  own.  But  on  the  walls  of  the  little  dining-room  hung 
a  Copley  and  two  Stuarts.  One  of  the  Stuarts  was  a  full 
length  of  an  officer  in  the  burl'  and  blue  of  the  Continental 
Army.  And  it  was  this  picture  which  caught  Anne's 
eye  that  day. 

"  How  like  Stephen  !  "  she  exclaimed.  And  added : 
".Only  the  face  is  much  older.  Who  is  it,  Mrs.  Brice?" 

"  Colonel  Wilton  Brice,  Stephen's  grandfather.  There 
is  a  marked  look  about  all  the  Brices.  He  was  only 
twenty  years  of  age  when  the  Revolution  began.  That 
picture  was  painted  much  later  in  life,  after  Stuart  came 
back  to  America,  when  the  Colonel  was  nearly  forty.  He 
had  kept  his  uniform,  and  his  wife  persuaded  him  to  be 
painted  in  it." 

"If  Stephen  would  only  come  as  Colonel  Wilton  Brice!" 
she  cried.  "  Do  you  think  he  would,  Mrs.  Brice  ?  " 

Mrs.  Brice  laughed,  and  shook  her  head. 

"I  am  afraid  not,  Anne,"  she  said.  "I  have  a  part  of 
the  uniform  upstairs,  but  I  could  never  induce  him  even  to 
try  it  on." 

As  she  drove  from  shop  to  shop  that  day,  Anne  reflected 
that  it  certainly  would  not  be  like  Stephen  to  wear  his 
grandfather's  uniform  to  a  ball.  But  she  meant  to  ask 
him,  at  any  rate.  And  she  had  driven  home  immediately 
to*Vrite  her  invitations.  It  was  with  keen  disappointment 
that  she  read  his  note  of  regret. 

However,  on  the  very  day  of  the  ball,  Anne  chanced  to 
be  in  town  again,  and  caught  sight  of  Stephen  pushing  his 


INTO   WHICH   A   POTENTATE   COMES          225 

way  among  the  people  on  Fourth  Street.  She  waved  her 
hand  to  him,  and  called  to  Nicodemus  to  pull  up  at  the 
sidewalk. 

"  We  are  all  so  sorry  that  you  are  not  coming,"  said  she, 
impulsively.  And  there  she  stopped  short.  For  Anne  was 
a  sincere  person,  and  remembered  Virginia.  "  That  is,  I 
am  so  sorry,"  she  added,  a  little  hastily.  "  Stephen,  I  saw 
the  portrait  of  your  grandfather,  and  I  wanted  you  to  come 
in  his  costume." 

Stephen,  smiling  down  on  her,  said  nothing.  And  poor 
Anne,  in  her  fear  that  he  had  perceived  the  shade  in  her 
meaning,  made  another  unfortunate  remark. 

"If  you  were  not  a  —  a  Republican — "  she  said. 

"A  Black  Republican,"  he  answered,  and  laughed  at 
her  discomfiture.  "  What  then  ?  " 

Anne  was  very  red. 

"  I  only  meant  that  if  you  were  not  a  Republican,  there 
would  be  no  meeting  to  address  that  night." 

"  It  does  not  make  any  difference  to  you  what  my  poli 
tics  are,  does  it?"  he  asked,  a  little  earnestly. 

"  Oh,  Stephen  !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  gentle  reproof. 

"  Some  people  have  discarded  me,"  he  said,  striving  to 
smile. 

She  wondered  whether  he  meant  Virginia,  and  whether 
he  cared.  Still  further  embarrassed,  she  said  something 
which  she  regretted  immediately. 

"  Couldn't  you  contrive  to  come  ?  " 

He  considered. 

"  I  will  come,  after  the  meeting,  if  it  is  not  too  late,"  he 
said  at  length.  "  But  you  must  not  tell  any  one." 

He  lifted  his  hat,  and  hurried  on,  leaving  Anne  in  a 
quandary.  She  wanted  him.  But  what  was  she  to  say  to 
Virginia  ?  Virginia  was  coming  on  the  condition  that  he 
was  not  to  be  there.  And  Anne  was  scrupulous. 

Stephen,  too,  was  almost  instantly  sorry  that  he  had 
promised.  The  little  costumer's  shop  (the  only  one  in 
the  city  at  that  time)  had  been  ransacked  for  the  occa 
sion,  and  nothing  was  left  to  fit  him.  But  when  he 
reached  home  there  was  a  strong  smell  of  camphor  in  his 


226  THE  CRISIS 

mother's  room.  Colonel  Brice's  cocked  hat  and  sword 
and  spurs  lay  on  the  bed,  and  presently  Hester  brought 
in  the  blue  coat  and  buff  waistcoat  from  the  kitchen, 
where  she  had  been  pressing  them.  Stephen  must  needs 
yield  to  his  mother's  persuasions  and  try  them  on  —  they 
were  more  than  a  passable  fit.  But  there  were  the 
breeches  and  cavalry  boots  to  be  thought  of,  and  the 
ruffled  shirt  and  the  powdered  wig.  So  before  tea  he 
hurried  down  to  the  costumer's  again,  not  quite  sure  that 
he  was  not  making  a  fool  of  himself,  and  yet  at  last  suffi 
ciently  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing.  The  coat  was 
mended  and  freshened.  And  when  after  tea  he  dressed 
in  the  character,  his  appearance  was  so  striking  that  his 
mother  could  not  refrain  from  some  little  admiration.  As 
for  Hester,  she  was  in  transports.  Stephen  was  human, 
and  young.  But  still  the  frivolity  of  it  all  troubled  him. 
He  had  inherited  from  Colonel  Wilton  Brice,  the  Puritan, 
other  things  beside  clothes.  And  he  felt  in  his  heart  as 
he  walked  soberly  to  the  hall  that  this  was  no  time  for 
fancy  dress  balls.  All  intention  of  going  was  banished  by 
the  time  his  turn  had  come  to  speak. 

But  mark  how  certain  matters  are  beyond  us.  Not  car 
ing  to  sit  out  the  meeting  on  the  platform,  he  made  his  way 
down  the  side  of  the  crowded  hall,  and  ran  into  (of  all 
people)  big  Tom  Catherwood.  As  the  Southern  Rights 
politics  of  the  Catherwood  family  were  a  matter  of  note  in 
the  city,  Stephen  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  his  astonish 
ment.  Tom  himself  was  visibly  embarrassed.  He  con 
gratulated  Stephen  on  his  speech,  and  volunteered  the 
news  that  he  had  come  in  a  spirit  of  fairness  to  hear  what 
the  intelligent  leaders  of  the  Republican  party,  such  as 
Judge  Whipple,  had  to  say.  After  that  he  fidgeted.  But 
the  sight  of  him  started  in  Stephen  a  train  of  thought  that 
closed  his  ears  for  once  to  the  Judge's  words.  He  had 
had  before  a  huge  liking  for  Tom.  Now  he  admired  him, 
for  it  was  no  light  courage  that  took  one  of  his  position 
there.  And  Stephen  remembered  that  Tom  was  not  risk 
ing  merely  the  displeasure  of  his  family  and  his  friends, 
but  likewise  something  of  greater  value  than  either.  From 


INTO   WHICH   A   POTENTATE   COMES          227 

childhood  Tom  had  been  the  devoted  slave  of  Virginia 
Carvel,  with  as  little  chance  of  marrying  her  as  a  man 
ever  had.  And  now  he  was  endangering  even  that  little 
chance. 

And  so  Stephen  began  to  think  of  Virginia,  and  to  won 
der  what  she  would  wear  at  Anne's  party ;  and  to  specu 
late  how  she  would  have  treated  him  if  he  had  gone.  To 
speak  truth,  this  last  matter  had  no  little  weight  in  his 
decision  to  stay  away.  But  we  had  best  leave  motives  to 
those  whose  business  and  equipment  it  is  to  weigh  to  a 
grain.  Since  that  agonizing  moment  when  her  eyes  had 
met  his  own  among  the  curiously  vulgar  at  the  Fair, 
Stephen's  fear  of  meeting  Virginia  had  grown  to  the  pro 
portions  of  a  terror.  And  yet  there  she  was  in  his  mind, 
to  take  possession  of  it  on  the  slightest  occasion. 

When  Judge  Whipple  had  finished,  Tom  rose.  He 
awoke  Mr.  Brice  from  a  trance. 

"  Stephen,"  said  he,  "  of  course  you're  going  to  the 
Brinsmade's." 

Stephen  shook  his  head. 

"Why  not?"  said  Tom,  in  surprise.  "Haven't  you  a 
costume  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  dubiously. 

u  Why,  then,  you've  got  to  come  with  me,"  says  Tom, 
heartily.  "  It  isn't  too  late,  and  they'll  want  you.  I!ve 
a  buggy,  and  I'm  going  to  the  Russells'  to  change  my 
clothes.  Come  along !  " 

Stephen  went. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AT  MR.  BRINSMADE'S  GATE 

THE  eastern  side  of  the  Brinsmade  house  is  almost 
wholly  taken  up  by  the  big  drawing-room  where  Anne 
gave  her  fancy-dress  ball.  From  the  windows  might  be 
seen,  through  the  trees  in  the  grounds,  the  Father  of 
Waters  below.  But  the  room  is  gloomy  now,  that  once 
was  gay,  and  a  heavy  coat  of  soot  is  spread  on  the  porch  at 
the  back,  where  the  apple  blossoms  still  fall  thinly  in  the 
spring.  The  huge  black  town  has  coiled  about  the  place. 
The  garden  still  struggles  on,  but  the  giants  of  the  forest 
are  dying  and  dead.  Bellefontaine  Road  itself,  once  the 
drive  of  fashion,  is  no  more.  Trucks  and  cars  crowd  the 
streets  which  follow  its  once  rural  windings,  and  gone 
forever  are  those  comely  wooded  hills  and  green  pastures, 
—  save  in  the  memory  of  those  who  have  been  spared 
to  dream. 

Still  the  old  house  stands,  begrimed  but  stately,  rebuk 
ing  the  sordid  life  around  it.  Still  come  into  it  the  Brins- 
mades  to  marriage  and  to  death.  Five  and  sixty  years  are 
gone  since  Mr.  Calvin  Brinsmade  took  his  bride  there. 
They  sat  on  the  porch  in  the  morning  light,  harking  to 
the  whistle  of  the  quail  in  the  corn,  and  watching  the 
frightened  deer  scamper  across  the  open.  Do  you  see  the 
bride  in  her  high-waisted  gown,  and  Mr.  Calvin  in  his 
stock  and  his  blue  tail-coat  and  brass  buttons? 

Old  people  will  tell  you  of  the  royal  hospitality  then,  of 
the  famous  men  and  women  who  promenaded  under  those 
chandeliers,  and  sat  down  to  the  game-laden  table.  In 
1835  General  Atkinson  and  his  officers  thought  nothing 
of  the  twenty  miles  from  Jefferson  Barracks  below,  nor  of 
dancing  all  night  with  the  Louisville  belles,  who  were  Mrs. 

228 


AT   MR.   BRINSMADE'S   GATE  229 

Brinsmade's  guests.  Thither  came  Miss  Edwards  of  Ken 
tucky,  long  before  she  thought  of  taking  for  a  husband 
that  rude  man  of  the  people,  Abraham  Lincoln.  For 
eigners  of  distinction  fell  in  love  with  the  place,  with  its 
open-hearted  master  and  mistress,  and  wrote  of  it  in  their 
journals.  Would  that  many  of  our  countrymen,  who  think 
of  the  West  as  rough,  might  have  known  the  quality  of  the 
Brinsmades  and  their  neighbors  ! 

An  era  of  charity,  of  golden  simplicity,  was  passing  on 
that  October  night  of  Anne  Brinsmade's  ball.  Those  who 
made  merry  there  were  soon  to  be  driven  and  scattered 
before  the  winds  of  war ;  to  die  at  Wilson's  Creek,  or 
Shiloh,  or  to  be  spared  for  heroes  of  the  Wilderness.  Some 
were  to  eke  out  a  life  of  widowhood  in  poverty.  All  were 
to  live  soberly,  chastened  by  what  they  had  seen.  A  fear 
knocked  at  Colonel  Carvel's  heart  as  he  stood  watching 
the  bright  figures. 

"  Brinsmade,"  he  said,  "  do  you  remember  this  room  in 
May,  '46  ?  " 

Mr.  Brinsmade,  startled,  turned  upon  him  quickly. 

"  Why,  Colonel,  you  have  read  my  very  thoughts,"  he 
said.  "  Some  of  those  who  were  here  then  are  —  are  still 
in  Mexico." 

"  And  some  who  came  home,  Brinsmade,  blamed  God 
because  they  had  not  fallen,"  said  the.  Colonel. 

"  Hush,  Comyn,  His  will  be  done,"  he  answered ;  "  He 
has  left  a  daughter  to  comfort  you." 

Unconsciously  their  eyes  sought  Virginia.  In  her  gown 
of  faded  primrose  and  blue  with  its  quaint  stays  and  short 
sleeves,  she  seemed  to  have  caught  the  very  air  of  the 
decorous  century  to  which  it  belonged.  She  was  standing 
against  one  of  the  pilasters  at  the  side  of  the  room,  laugh 
ing  demurely  at  the  antics  of  Becky  Sharp  and  Sir  John 
Falstaff,  —  Miss  Puss  Russell  and  Mr.  Jack  Brinsmade,. 
respectively. 

Mr.  Tennyson's  "  Idylls "  having  appeared  but  the 
year  before,  Anne  was  dressed  as  Elaine,  a  part  which 
suited  her  very  well.  It  was  strange  indeed  to  see  her 
waltzing  with  Daniel  Boone  (Mr.  Clarence  Colfax)  in 


230  THE   CRISIS 

his  Indian  buckskins.  Eugenie  went  as  Marie  Antoinette. 
Tall  Maude  Catherwood  was  most  imposing  as  Rebecca, 
and  her  brother  George  made  a  towering  Friar  Tuck. 
Even  little  fifteen-year-old  Spencer  Catherwood,  the  con 
tradiction  of  the  family,  was  there.  He  went  as  the 
lieutenant  Napoleon,  walking  about  with  his  hands  be 
hind  his  back  and  his  brows  thoughtfully  contracted. 

The  Indian  summer  night  was  mild.  It  was  at  the 
very  height  of  the  festivities  that  Dorothy  Carvel  and 
Mr.  Daniel  Boone  were  making  their  way  together  to  the 
porch  when  the  giant  gate-keeper  of  Kenilworth  Castle 
came  stalking  up  the  steps  out  of  the  darkness,  brandish 
ing  his  club  in  their  faces.  Dorothy  screamed,  and  even 
the  doughty  Daniel  gave  back  a  step. 

44  Tom  Catherwood  !  How  dare  you  ?  You  frightened 
me  nearly  to  death." 

44  I'm  sorry,  Jinny,  indeed  I  am,"  said  the  giant,  re 
pentant,  and  holding  her  hand  in  his. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  "  demanded  Virginia,  a  little 
mollified.  "  What  makes  you  so  late  ?  " 

44  I've  been  to  a  Lincoln  meeting,"  said  honest  Tom, 
44  where  I  heard  a  very  fine  speech  from  a  friend  of 
yours." 

Virginia  tossed  her  head. 

"  You  might  have,  been  better  employed,"  said  she,  and 
added,  with  dignity,  "  I  have  no  friends  who  speak  at 
Black  Republican  meetings." 

44  How  about  Judge  Whipple?"  said  Tom. 

She  stopped.  44  Did  you  mean  the  Judge?  "  she  asked, 
over  her  shoulder. 

44  No,"  said  Tom,  44 1  meant  —  " 

He  got  no  further.  Virginia  slipped  her  arm  through 
Clarence's,  and  they  went  off  together  to  the  end  of  the 
veranda.  Poor  Tom  !  He  passed  on  into  the  gay  draw 
ing-room,  but  the  zest  had  been  taken  out  of  his  antics 
for  that  night. 

44  Whom  did  he  mean,  Jinny  ? "  said  Clarence,  when 
they  were  on  the  seat  under  the  vines. 

44  He   meant   that   Yankee,   Stephen    Brice,"    answered 


AT   MR.   BRINSMADE'S   GATE  231 

Virginia,  languidly.  "  I  am  so  tired  of  hearing  about 
him." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Clarence,  with  a  fervor  by  no  means 
false.  "  By  George,  I  think  he  will  make  a  Black  Re 
publican  out  of  Tom,  if  he  keeps  on.  Puss  and  Jack  have 
been  talking  about  him  all  summer,  until  I  am  out  of 
patience.  I  reckon  he  has  brains.  But  suppose  he  has 
addressed  fifty  Lincoln  meetings,  as  they  say,  is  that  any 
reason  for  making  much  of  him  ?  I  should  not  have  him 
at  Bellegarde.  I  am  surprised  that  Mr.  Russell  allows  him 
in  his  house.  I  can  see  why  Anne  likes  him." 

"Why?" 

"He  is  on  the  Brinsmade  charity  list." 

"  He  is  not  on  their  charity  list,  nor  on  any  other,"  said 
Virginia,  quickly.  "  Stephen  Brice  is  the  last  person  who 
would  submit  to  charity." 

"  And  you  are  the  last  person  whom  I  supposed  would 
stand  up  for  him,"  cried  her  cousin,  surprised  and 
nettled. 

There  was  an  instant's  silence. 

"  I  want  to  be  fair,  Max,"  she  said  quietly.  "  Pa  offered 
them  our  Glencoe  House  last  summer  at  a  low  price,  and  they 
insisted  on  pa}7ing  what  Mr.  Edwards  gave  five  years  ago, 
—  or  nothing.  You  know  that  I  detest  a  Yankee  as  much 
as  you  do,"  she  continued,  indignation  growing  in  her 
voice.  "  I  did  not  come  out  here  with  you  to  be  insulted." 

With  her  hand  on  the  rail,  she  made  as  if  to  rise.  Clar 
ence  was  perforce  mollified. 

"  Don't  go.  Jinny,"  he  said  beseechingly.  "  I  didn't 
mean  to  make  you  angry  —  " 

"  I  can't  see  why  you  should  always  be  dragging  in  this 
Mr.  Brice,"  she  said,  almost  tearfully.  (It  will  not  do 
to  pause  now  and  inquire  into  Virginia's  logic.)  "  I  came 
out  to  hear  what  you  had  to  tell  me." 

"  Jinny,  I  have  been  made  second  lieutenant  of  Com 
pany  A." 

"  Oh,  Max,  I  am  so  glad  !     I  am  so  proud  of  you !" 

"  I  suppose  that  you  have  heard  the  result  of  the  Octo 
ber  elections,  Jinny." 


232  THE   CRISIS 

"  Pa  said  something  about  them  to-night,"  she  answered; 
"  why  ?  " 

"  It  looks  now  as  if  there  were  a  chance  of  the  Republi 
cans  winning,"  he  answered.  But  it  was  elation  that 
caught  his  voice,  not  gloom. 

"  You  mean  that  this  white  trash  Lincoln  may  be  Presi 
dent  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  seizing  his  arm. 

"  Never  !  he  cried.  "The  South  will  not  submit  to 
that  until  every  man  who  can  bear  arms  is  shot  down." 
He  paused.  The  strains  of  a  waltz  mingled  with  talk  and 
laughter  floated  out  of  the  open  window.  His  voice 
dropped  to  a  low  intensity.  "We  are  getting  ready  in 
Company  A,"  he  said;  "the  traitors  will  be  dropped.  We 
are  getting  ready  to  fight  for  Missouri  and  for  the  South." 

The  girl  felt  his  excitement,  his  exaltation. 

"  And  if  you  were  not,  Max,  I  should  disown  you,"  she 
whispered. 

He  leaned  forward  until  his  face  was  close  to  hers. 

"  And  now  ?  "  he  said. 

"  I  am  ready  to  work,  to  starve,  to  go  to  prison,  to 
help—" 

He  sank  back  heavily  into  the  corner. 

"Is  that  all,  Jinny?" 

"  All  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Oh,  if  a  woman  could  only  do 
more  !  " 

"  And  is  there  nothing  —  for  me  ?  " 

Virginia  straightened. 

"  Are  you  doing  this  for  a  reward  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  No,"  he  answered  passionately.  "  You  know  that  I 
am  not.  Do  you  remember  when  you  told  me  that  I  was 
good  for  nothing,  that  I  lacked  purpose  ?  " 

"Yes,  Max."' 

"  I  have  thought  it  over  since,"  he  went  on  rapidly  ; 
"  you  were  right.  I  cannot  work  —  it  is  not  in  me.  But 
I  have  always  felt  that  I  could  make  a  name  for  myself  — 
for  you  —  in  the  army.  I  am  sure  that  I  could  command 
a  regiment.  And  now  the  time  is  coming." 

She  did  not  answer  him,  but  absently  twisted  the  fringe 
of  his  buckskins  in  her  fingers. 


AT   ME.   BRINSMADE'S   GATE  233 

"  Ever  since  I  have  known  what  love  is  I  have  loved 
you,  Jinny.  It  was  so  when  we  climbed  the  cherry  trees 
at  Bellegarde.  And  you  loved  me  then  —  I  know  you 
did.  You  loved  me  when  I  went  East  to  school  at  the 
Military  Institute.  But  it  has  not  been  the  same  of  late," 
he  faltered.  "  Something  has  happened.  I  felt  it  first  on 
that  day  you  rode  out  to  Bellegarde  when  you  said  that  my 
life  was  of  no  use.  Jinny,  I  don't  ask  much.  I  am  con 
tent  to  prove  myself.  War  is  coming,  and  we  shall  have 
to  free  ourselves  from  Yankee  insolence.  It  is  what  we 
have  both  wished  for.  When  I  am  a  general,  will  you 
marry  me  ?  " 

For  a  wavering  instant  she  might  have  thrown  herself 
into  his  outstretched  arms.  Why  not,  and  have  done  with 
sickening  doubts  ?  Perhaps  her  hesitation  hung  on  the 
very  boyishness  of  his  proposal.  Perhaps  the  revelation 
that  she  did  not  then  fathom  was  that  he  had  not  devel 
oped  since  those  childish  days.  But  even  while  she  held 
back,  came  the  beat  of  hoofs  on  the  gravel  below  them, 
and  one  of  the  Bellegarde  servants  rode  into  the  light  pour 
ing  through  the  open  door.  He  called  for  his  master. 

Clarence  muttered  his  dismay  as  he  followed  his  cousin 
to  the  steps. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Virginia,  alarmed. 

"  Nothing  ;  I  forgot  to  sign  the  deed  to  the  Elleardsville 
property,  and  Worington  wants  it  to-night."  Cutting 
short  Sambo's  explanations,  Clarence  vaulted  on  the  horse. 
Virginia  was  at  his  stirrup.  Leaning  over  in  the  saddle, 
he  whispered  :  "  I'll  be  back  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
Will  you  wait?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  so  that  he  barely  heard. 

"  Here  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

He  was  away  at  a  gallop,  leaving  Virginia  standing 
bareheaded  to  the  night,  alone.  A  spring  of  pity,  of 
affection  for  Clarence  suddenly  welled  up  within  her. 
There  came  again  something  of  her  old  admiration  for 
a  boy,  impetuous  and  lovable,  who  had  tormented  and 
defended  her  with  the  same  hand. 


234  THE   CRISIS 

Patriotism,  stronger  in  Virginia  than  many  of  us  now 
can  conceive,  was  on  Clarence's  side.  Ambition  was 
strong  in  her  likewise.  Now  was  she  all  afire  with  the 
thought  that  she,  a  woman,  might  by  a  single  word  give 
the  South  a  leader.  That  word  would  steady  him,  for 
there  was  no  question  of  her  influence.  She  trembled  at 
the  reckless  lengths  he  might  go  in  his  dejection,  and  a 
memory  returned  to  her  of  a  day  at  Glencoe,  before  lie 
had  gone  off  to  school,  when  she  had  refused  to  drive 
with  him.  Colonel  Carvel  had  been  away  from  home. 
She  had  pretended  not  to  care.  In  spite  of  Ned's  be- 
seechings  Clarence  had  ridden  off  on  a  wild  thorough 
bred  colt  and  had  left  her  to  an  afternoon  of  agony. 
Vividly  she  recalled  his  home-coming  in  the  twilight,  his 
coat  torn  and  muddy,  a  bleeding  cut  on  his  forehead,  and 
the  colt  quivering  tame. 

In  those  days  she  had  thought  of  herself  unreservedly 
as  meant  for  him.  Dash  and  courage  and  generosity 
had  been  the  beacon  lights  on  her  horizon.  But  now  ? 
Were  there  not  other  qualities?  Yes,  and  Clarence 
should  have  these,  too.  She  would  put  them  into  him. 
She  also  had  been  at  fault,  and  perhaps  it  was  because 
of  her  wavering  loyalty  to  him  that  he  had  not  gained 
them. 

Her  name  spoken  within  the  hall  startled  Virginia 
from  her  reverie,  and  she  began  to  walk  rapidly  down 
the  winding  drive.  A  fragment  of  the  air  to  which  they 
were  dancing  brought  her  to  a  stop.  It  was  the  Jenny 
Lind  waltz.  And  with  it  came  clear  and  persistent  the 
image  she  had  sought  to  shut  out  and  failed.  As  if  to 
escape  it  now,  she  fairly  ran  all  the  way  to  the  light  at 
the  entrance  and  hid  in  the  magnolias  clustered  beside  the 
gateway.  It  was  her  cousin's  name  she  whispered  over 
and  over  to  herself  as  she  waited,  vibrant  with  a  strange 
excitement.  It  was  as  though  the  very  elements  might 
thwart  her  will.  Clarence  would  be  delayed,  or  they 
would  miss  her  at  the  house,  and  search.  It  seemed  an 
eternity  before  she  heard  the  muffled  thud  of  a  horse 
cantering  on  the  clay  road. 


AT   MR.   BRINSMADE'S   GATE  235 

Virginia  stood  out  in  the  light  fairly  between  the  gate 
posts.  Too  late  she  saw  the  horse  rear  as  the  rider  flew 
back  in  his  seat,  for  she  had  seized  the  bridle.  The 
beams  from  the  lamp  fell  upon  a  Revolutionary  horseman, 
with  cocked  hat  and  sword  and  high  riding-boots.  For 
her  his  profile  was  in  silhouette,  and  the  bold  nose  and 
chin  belonged  to  but  one  man  she  knew.  He  was  Stephen 
Brice.  She  gave  a  cry  of  astonishment  and  dropped  the 
rein  in  dismay.  Hot  shame  was  surging  in  her  face. 
Her  impulse  was  to  fly,  nor  could  she  tell  what  force  it 
was  that  stayed  her  feet. 

As  for  Stephen,  he  stood  high  in  his  stirrups  and  stared 
down  at  the  girl.  She  was  standing  full  in  the  light,  — 
her  lashes  fallen,  her  face  crimson.  But  no  sound  of 
surprise  escaped  him  because  it  was  she,  nor  did  he  won 
der  at  her  gown  of  a  gone-by  century.  Her  words  came 
first,  and  they  were  low.  She  did  not  address  him  by 
name. 

"I  —  I  thought  that  you  were  my  cousin,"  she  said. 
"  What  must  you  think  of  me  !  " 

Stephen  was  calm. 

"  I  expected  it,"  he  answered. 

She  gave  a  step  backward,  and  raised  her  frightened 
eyes  to  his. 

"  You  expected  it  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  I  can't  say  why,"  he  said  quickly,  "  but  it  seems  to 
me  as  if  this  had  happened  before.  I  know  that  I  am 
talking  nonsense  — 

Virginia  was  trembling  now.  And  her  answer  was  not 
of  her  own  choosing. 

kt  It  has  happened  before,"  she  cried.  "  But  where  ? 
And  when  ?  " 

"  It  may  have  been  in  a  dream,"  he  answered  her, 
"  that  I  saw  you  as  you  stand  there  by  my  bridle.  I  even 
know  the  gown  you  wear." 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  forehead.  Had  it  been  a 
dream  ?  And  what  mystery  was  it  that  sen4  him  here  this 
night  of  all  nights  ?  She  could  not  even  have  said  that  it 
was  her  own  voice  making  reply. 


236  THE   CRISIS 

"  And  I  —  I  have  seen  you,  with  the  sword,  and  the 
powdered  hair,  and  the  blue  coat  and  the  buff  waistcoat. 
It  is  a  buff  waistcoat  like  that  my  great-grandfather  wears 
in  his  pictures." 

"  It  is  a  buff  waistcoat,"  he  said,  all  sense  of  strangeness 
gone. 

The  roses  she  held  dropped  on  the  gravel,  and  she  put 
out  her  hand  against  his  horse's  flank.  In  an  instant  he 
had  leaped  from  his  saddle,  and  his  arm  was  holding  her. 
She  did  not  resist,  marvelling  rather  at  his  own  steadi 
ness,  nor  did  she  then  resent  a  tenderness  in  his  voice. 

"  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  —  Virginia,"  he  said.  "  I 
should  not  have  mentioned  this.  And  yet  I  could  not 
help  it." 

She  looked  up  at  him  rather  wildly. 

"  It  was  I  who  stopped  you,"  she  said  ;  "  I  was  waiting 
for- 

"  For  whom  ?  " 

The  interruption  brought  remembrance. 

"  For  my  cousin,  Mr.  Coif  ax,"  she  answered,  in  another 
tone.  And  as  she  spoke  she  drew  away  from  him,  up  the 
driveway.  But  she  had  scarcely  taken  five  steps  when 
she  turned  again,  her  face  burning  defiance.  "  They  told 
me  you  were  not  coming,"  she  said  almost  fiercely* 
"  Why  did  you  come  ?  " 

It  was  a  mad  joy  that  Stephen  felt. 

"  You  did  not  wish  me  to  come  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Oh,  why  do  you  ask  that  ?  "  she  cried.  "  You  know 
I  would  not  have  been  here  had  I  thought  you  were  com 
ing.  Anne  promised  me  that  you  would  not  come." 

What  would  she  not  have  given  for  those  words  back 
again  ! 

Stephen  took  a  stride  toward  her,  and  to  the  girl  that 
stride  betokened  a  thousand  things  that  went  to  the  man's 
character.  Within  its  compass  the  comparison  in  her 
mind  was  all  complete.  He  was  master  of  himself  when 
he  spoke.  » 

"  You  dislike  me,  Miss  Carvel,"  he  said  steadily.  "  I 
do  not  blame  you.  Nor  do  I  flatter  myself  that  it  is  only 


'"THEY  TOLD  ME  YOU  WERE  NOT  COMING'" 


AT   MR.   BRINSMADE'S   GATE  237 

because  you  believe  one  thing,  and  I  another.  But  I 
assure  you  that  it  is  my  misfortune  rather  than  my  fault 
that  I  have  not  pleased  you,  —  that  I  have  met  you  only 
to  anger  you." 

He  paused,  for  she  did  not  seem  to  hear  him.  She  was 
gazing  at  the  distant  lights  moving  on  the  river.  Had 
he  come  one  step  farther  ?  —  but  he  did  not.  Presently 
she  knew  that  he  was  speaking  again,  in  the  same  meas 
ured  tone. 

"  Had  Miss  Brinsmade  told  me  that  my  presence  here 
would  cause  you  annoyance,  I  should  have  stayed  away. 
I  hope  that  you  will  think  nothing  of  the  —  the  mistake 
at  the  gate.  You  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  not  mention  it. 
Good  night,  Miss  Carvel." 

He  lifted  his  hat,  mounted  his  horse,  and  was  gone. 
She  had  not  even  known  that  he  could  ride  —  that  was 
strangely  the  first  thought.  The  second  discovered  her 
self  intent  upon  the  rhythm  of  his  canter  as  it  died  south 
ward  upon  the  road.  There  was  shame  in  this,  mingled 
with  a  thankfulness  that  he  would  not  meet  Clarence. 
She  hurried  a  few  steps  toward  the  house,  and  stopped 
again.  What  should  she  say  to  Clarence  now?  What 
could  she  say  to  him  ? 

But  Clarence  was  not  in  her  head.  Ringing  there  was 
her  talk  with  Stephen  Brice,  as  though  it  were  still  rapidly 
going  on.  His  questions  and  her  replies  —  over  and  over 
again.  Each  trivial  incident  of  an  encounter  real  and  yet 
unreal  !  His  transformation  in  the  uniform,  which  had 
seemed  so  natural.  Though  she  strove  to  make  it  so,  noth 
ing  of  all  this  was  unbearable  now,  nor  the  remembrance 
of  the  firm  touch  of  his  arm  about  her  ;  nor  yet  again  his 
calling  her  by  her  name. 

Absently  she  took  her  way  again  up  the  drive,  now 
pausing,  now  going  on,  forgetful.  First  it  was  alarm  she 
felt  when  her  cousin  leaped  down  at  her  side, —  then  dread. 

"  I  thought  I  should  never  get  back,"  he  cried  breath 
lessly,  as  he  threw  his  reins  to  Sambo.  "  I  ought  not  to 
have  asked  you  to  wait  outside.  Did  it  seem  long,  Jinny  ?  " 

She  answered  something.     There  was  a  seat  near  by, 


238  THE   CRISIS 

under  the  trees.  To  lead  her  to  it  he  seized  her  hand,  but 
it  was  limp  and  cold,  and  a  sudden  fear  came  into  his 
voice. 

"  Jinny !  " 

"Yes." 

She  resisted,  and  he  dropped  her  fingers.  She  remem 
bered  long  how  he  stood  in  the  scattered  light  from  the 
bright  windows,  a  tall,  black  figure  of  dismay.  She  felt 
the  yearning  in  his  eyes.  But  her  own  response,  warm 
half  an  hour  since,  was  lifeless. 

u  Jinny,"  he  said,  "  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  Max.  Only  I  was  very  foolish  to  say  I 
would  wait  for  you." 

"  Then  —  then  you  won't  marry  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Max,"  she  cried,  "  it  is  no  time  to  talk  of  that 
now.  I  feel  to-night  as  if  something  dreadful  were  to 
happen." 

"  Do  you  mean  war  ?  "  he  asked. 

uYes,"  she  said.     "Yes." 

"  But  war  is  what  we  want,"  he  cried,  "  what  we  have 
prayed  for,  what  we  have  both  been  longing  for  to-night, 
Jinny.  War  alone  will  give  us  our  rights  —  " 

He  stopped  short.  Virginia  had  bowed  her  head  in  hex- 
hands,  and  he  saw  her  shoulders  shaken  by  a  sob.  Clar 
ence  bent  over  her  in  bewilderment  and  anxiety. 

"  You  are  not  well,  Jinny,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  not  well,"  she  answered.  "  Take  me  into  the 
house." 

But  when  they  went  in  at  the  door,  he  saw  that  her  eyes 
were  dry. 

Those  were  the  days  when  a  dozen  young  ladies  were 
in  the  habit  of  staying  all  night  after  a  dance  in  the  coun 
try  ;  of  long  whispered  talks  (nay,  not  always  whispered) 
until  early  morning.  And  of  late  breakfasts.  Miss  Rus 
sell  had  not  been  the  only  one  who  remarked  Virginia's 
long  absence  with  her  cousin  ;  but  Puss  found  her  friend 
in  one  of  those  moods  which  even  she  dared  not  disturb. 
Accordingly  Miss  Russell  stayed  all  night  with  Anne. 


AT   MR.  BRINSMADE'S   GATE  239 

And  the  two  spent  most  of  the  dark  hours  remaining  in 
unprofitable  discussion  as  to  whether  Virginia  were  at  last 
engaged  to  her  cousin,  and  in  vain  queried  over  another 
unsolved  mystery.  This  mystery  was  taken  up  at  the 
breakfast  table  the  next  morning,  when  Miss  Carvel  sur 
prised  Mrs.  Brinsmade  and  the  male  household  by  appear 
ing  at  half-past  seven. 

44  Why,  Jinny,"  cried  Mr.  Brinsmade,  "what  does  this 
mean  ?  I  always  thought  that  young  ladies  did  not  get 
up  after  a  ball  until  noon." 

Virginia  smiled  a  little  nervously. 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  take  me  to  town  when  you 
go,  Mr.  Brinsmade." 

"  Why,  certainly,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "  But  I  under 
stood  that  your  aunt  was  to  send  for  you  this  afternoon 
from  Bellegarde." 

Virginia  shook  her  head.  "  There  is  something  I  wish 
to  do  in  town." 

"I'll  drive  her  in,  Pa,"  said  Jack.  "You're  too  old. 
Will  you  go  with  me,  Jinny  ?  " 

u  Of  course,  Jack." 

"  But  you  must  eat  some  breakfast,  Jinny,"  said  Mrs. 
Brinsmade,  glancing  anxiously  at  the  girl. 

Mr.  Brinsmade  put  down  his  newspaper. 

"Where  was  Stephen  Brice  last  night,  Jack?"  he 
asked.  "  I  understood  Anne  to  say  that  he  had  spoken 
of  coming  late." 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  Jack,  "  that's  what  we  can't  make  out. 
Tom  Catherwood,  who  is  always  doing  queer  things,  you 
know,  went  to  a  Black  Republican  meeting  last  night,  and 
met  Stephen  there.  They  came  out  in  Tom's  buggy  to 
the  Russells',  and  Tom  got  into  his  clothes  first  and  rode 
over.  Stephen  was  to  have  followed  on  Puss  Russell's 
horse.  But  he  never  got  here.  At  least  I  can  find  no 
one  who  saw  him.  Did  you,  Jinny  ?  " 

But  Virginia  did  not  raise  her  eyes  from  her  plate.  A 
miraculous  intervention  came  through  Mrs.  Brinsmade. 

"  There  might  have  been  an  accident,  Jack,"  said  that 
lady,  with  concern.  "  Send  Nicodemus  over  to  Mrs.  Rus- 


240  THE   CRISIS 

sell's  at  once  to  inquire.  You  know  that  Mr.  Brice  is  a 
Northerner,  and  may  not  be  able  to  ride." 

Jack  laughed. 

"  He  rides  like  a  dragoon,  mother,"  said  he.  "  I  don't 
know  where  he  picked  it  up." 

"  The  reason  I  mentioned  him,"  said  Mr.  Brinsmade, 
lifting  the  blanket  sheet  and  adjusting  his  spectacles,  "  was 
because  his  name  caught  my  eye  in  this  paper.  His  speech 
last  night  at  the  Library  Hall  is  one  of  the  few  sensible 
Republican  speeches  I  have  read.  I  think  it  very  remark 
able  for  a  man  as  young  as  he."  Mr.  Brinsmade  began  to 
read  :  " '  While  waiting  for  the  speaker  of  the  evening,  who 
was  half  an  hour  late,  Mr.  Tiefel  rose  in  the  audience  and 
called  loudly  for  Mr.  Brice.  Many  citizens  in  the  hall 
were  astonished  at  the  cheering  which  followed  the  men 
tion  of  this  name.  Mr.  Brice  is  a  young  lawyer  with 
a  quiet  manner  and  a  determined  face,  who  has  sacrificed 
much  to  the  Party's  cause  this  summer.  He  was  intro 
duced  by  Judge  W  hippie,  in  whose  office  he  is.  He  had 
hardly  begun  to  speak  before  he  had  the  ear  of  every  one 
in  the  house.  Mr.  Brice's  personality  is  prepossessing, 
his  words  are  spoken  sharply,  and  he  has  a  singular  em 
phasis  at  times  which  seems  to  drive  his  arguments  into 
the  minds  of  his  hearers.  We  venture  to  say  that  if  party 
orators  here  and  elsewhere  were  as  logical  and  temperate 
as  Mr.  Brice  ;  if,  like  him,  they  appealed  to  reason  rather 
than  to  passion,  those  bitter  and  lamentable  differences 
which  threaten  our  country's  peace  might  be  amicably 
adjusted.'  Let  me  read  what  he  said." 

But  he  was  interrupted  by  the  rising  of  Virginia.  A 
high  color  was  on  the  girl's  face  as  she  said  :  — 

"  Please  excuse  me,  Mrs.  Brinsmade,  I  must  go  and  get 
ready." 

"  But  you've  eaten  nothing,  my  dear." 

Virginia  did  not  reply.     She  was  already  on  the  stairs. 

"  You  ought  not  have  read  that,  Pa,"  Mr.  Jack  remon 
strated  ;  "you  know  that  she  detests  Yankees." 


CHAPTER   XIV 
THE  BREACH  BECOMES  TOO  "WIDE 

ABRAHAM  LINCOLN! 

At  the  foot  of  Breed's  Hill  in  Charlestown  an  American 
had  been  born  into  the  world,  by  the  might  of  whose  genius 
that  fateful  name  was  sped  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
nation.  Abraham  Lincoln  was  elected  President  of  the 
United  States.  And  the  moan  of  the  storm  gathering  in 
the  South  grew  suddenly  loud  and  louder. 

Stephen  Brice  read  the  news  in  the  black  headlines  and 
laid  down  the  newspaper,  a  sense  of  the  miraculous  upon 
him.  There  again  was  the  angled,  low-ceiled  room  of  the 
country  tavern,  reeking  with  food  and  lamps  and  perspira 
tion  ;  for  a  central  figure  the  man  of  surpassing  homeliness, 

—  coatless,  tieless,  and  vestless,  —  telling  a  story  in  the 
vernacular.     He  reflected  that  it  might  well  seem  strange 

—  yea,  and  intolerable  —  to  many  that  this  comedian  of 
the  country  store,  this  crude  lawyer  and  politician,  should 
inherit  the  seat  dignified  by  Washington  and  the  Adamses. 

And  yet  Stephen  believed.  For  to  him  had  been  vouch 
safed  the  glimpse  beyond. 

That  was  a  dark  winter  that  followed,  the  darkest  in 
our  history.  Gloom  and  despondency  came  fast  upon  the 
heels  of  Republican  exultation.  Men  rose  early  for  tidings 
from  Charleston,  the  storm  centre.  The  Union  was  crack 
ing  here  and  there.  Would  it  crumble  in  pieces  before 
Abraham  Lincoln  got  to  Washington? 

One  smoky  morning  early  in  December  Stephen  arrived 
late  at  the  office  to  find  Richter  sitting  idle  on  his  stool, 
concern  graven  on  his  face. 

"  The  Judge  has  had  no  breakfast,  Stephen,"  he   whis 
pered.     "Listen!     Shadrach  tells  me  he  has  been  doing 
that  since  six  this  morning,  when  he  got  his  newspaper." 
R  241 


242  THE   CRISIS 

Stephen  listened,  and  he  heard  the  Judge  pacing  and 
pacing  in  his  room.  Presently  the  door  was  flung  open, 
and  they  saw  Mr.  Whipple  standing  in  the  threshold,  stern 
and  dishevelled.  Astonishment  did  not  pause  here.  He 
came  out  and  sat  down  in  Stephen's  chair,  striking  the 
newspaper  in  his  hand,  and  they  feared  at  first  that  his 
mind  had  wandered. 

"  Propitiate  !  "  he  cried,  "propitiate,  propitiate,  and  again 
propitiate.  How  long,  O  Lord  ?  "  Suddenly  he  turned  upon 
Stephen,  who  was  frightened.  But  now  his  voice  was 
natural,  and  he  thrust  the  paper  into  the  young  man's 
lap.  "  Have  you  read  the  President's  message  to  Con 
gress,  sir?  God  help  me  that  I  am  spared  to  call  that 
wobbling  Buchanan  President.  Read  it.  Read  it,  sir. 
You  have  a  legal  brain.  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  why, 
if  a  man  admits  that  it  is  wrong  for  a  state  to  abandon 
this  Union,  he  cannot  call  upon  Congress  for  men  and 
money  to  bring  her  back.  No,  this  weakling  lets  Floyd 
stock  the  Southern  arsenals.  He  pays  tribute  to  Barbary. 
He  is  for  bribing  them  not  to  be  angry.  Take  Cuba  from 
Spain,  says  he,  and  steal  the  rest  of  Mexico  that  the  maw 
of  slavery  may  be  filled,  and  the  demon  propitiated." 

They  dared  not  answer  him.  And  so  he  went  back  into 
his  room,  shutting  the  door.  That  day  no  clients  saw  him, 
not  even  those  poor  ones  dependent  on  his  charity  whom 
he  had  never  before  denied.  Richter  and  Stephen  took 
counsel  together,  and  sent  Shadrach  out  for  his  dinner. 

Three  weeks  passed.  There  arrived  a  sparkling  Sunday, 
brought  down  the  valley  of  the  Missouri  from  the  frozen 
northwest.  The  Saturday  had  been  soggy  and  warm. 
Thursday  had  seen  South  Carolina  leave  that  Union  into 
which  she  was  born,  amid  prayers  and  the  ringing  of  bells. 
Tuesday  was  to  be  Christmas  day.  A  young  lady,  who 
had  listened  to  a  solemn  sermon  of  Dr.  Posthelwaite's, 
slipped  out  of  Church  before  the  prayers  were  ended,  and 
hurried  into  that  deserted  portion  of  the  town  about  the 
Court  House  where  on  week  days  business  held  its  sway. 
She  stopped  once  at  the  bottom  of  the  grimy  flight  of  steps 
leading  to  Judge  Whipple's  office.  At  the  top  she  paused 


THE   BREACH   BECOMES   TOO   WIDE  243 

again,  and  for  a  shor,t  space  stood  alert,  her  glance  resting 
on  the  little  table  in  the  corner,  on  top  of  which  a  few 
thumbed  law  books  lay  neatly  piled.  Once  she  made  a 
hesitating  step  in  this  direction.  Then,  as  if  by  a  resolu 
tion  quickly  taken,  she  turned  her  back  and  softly  opened 
the  door  of  the  Judge's  room.  He  was  sitting  upright  in 
his  chair.  A  book  was  open  in  his  lap,  but  it  did  not  seem 
to  Virginia  that  he  was  reading  it. 

"  Uncle  Silas,"  she  said,  "  aren't  you  coming  to  dinner 
any  more  ?  " 

He  looked  up  swiftly  from  under  his  shaggy  brows. 
The  book  fell  to  the  floor. 

44  Uncle  Silas,"  said  Virginia,  bravely,  4t  I  came  to  get 
you  to-day." 

Never  before  had  she  known  him  to  turn  away  from 
man  or  woman,  but  now  Judge  Whipple  drew  his  hand 
kerchief  from  his  pocket  and  blew  his  nose  violently.  A 
woman's  intuition  told  her  that  locked  tight  in  his  heart 
was  what  he  longed  to  say,  and  could  not.  The  shiny 
black  overcoat  he  wore  was  on  the  bed.  Virginia  picked 
it  up  and  held  it  out  to  him,  an  appeal  in  her  eyes. 

He  got  into  it.  Then  she  handed  him  his  hat.  Many 
people  walking  home  from  church  that  morning  marvelled 
as  they  saw  these  two  on  Locust  Street  together,  the  young 
girl  supporting  the  elderly  man  over  the  slippery  places  at 
the  crossings.  For  neighbor  had  begun  to  look  coldly  upon 
neighbor. 

Colonel  Carvel  beheld  them  from  his  armchair  by  the 
sitting-room  window,  and  leaned  forward  with  a  start. 
His  lips  moved  as  he  closed  his  Bible  reverently  and 
marked  his  place.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  he  surprised 
Jackson  by  waving  him  aside,  for  the  Colonel  himself 
flung  open  the  door  and  held  out  his  hand  to  his  friend. 
The  Judge  released  Virginia's  arm,  and  his  own  trembled 
as  he  gave  it. 

"Silas,"  said  the  Colonel,  " Silas,  we've  missed  you." 

Virginia  stood  by,  smiling,  but  her  breath  came  deeply. 
Had  she  done  right?  Could  any  good  come  of  it  all? 
Judge  Whipple  did  not  go  in  at  the  door.  He  stood  un- 


244  THE   CRISIS 

compromisingly  planted  on  the  threshold,  his  head  flung 
back,  and  actual  fierceness  in  his  stare. 

"  Do  you  guess  we  can  keep  off  the  subject,  Comyn  ?  " 
he  demanded. 

Even  Mr.  Carvel,  so  used  to  the  Judge's  ways,  was  a 
bit  taken  aback  by  this  question.  It  set  him  tugging  at 
his  goatee,  and  his  voice  was  not  quite  steady  as  he 
answered :  — 

"  God  knows,  Silas.  We  are  human,  and  we  can  onlv 
try." 

Then  Mr.  Whipple  marched  in.  It  lacked  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  of  dinner,  —  a  crucial  period  to  tax  the  resources 
of  any  woman.  Virginia  led  the  talk,  but  oh,  the  pathetic 
lameness  of  it.  Her  own  mind  was  wandering  when  it 
should  not,  and  recollections  she  had  tried  to  strangle  had 
sprung  up  once  more.  Only  that  morning  in  church  she 
had  lived  over  again  the  scene  by  Mr.  Brinsmade's  gate, 
and  it  was  then  that  a  wayward  but  resistless  impulse  to  go 
to  the  Judge's  office  had  seized  her.  The  thought  of  the 
old  man  lonely  and  bitter  in  his  room  decided  her.  On 
her  knees  she  prayed  that  she  might  save  the  bond  between 
him  and  her  father.  For  the  Colonel  had  been  morose  on 
Sundays,  and  had  taken  to  reading  the  Bible,  a  custom  he 
had  not  had  since  she  was  a  child. 

In  the  dining-room  Jackson,  bowing  and  smiling,  pulled 
out  the  Judge's  chair,  and  got  his  customary  curt  nod  as 
a  reward.  Virginia  carved. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Silas,"  she  cried,  "  I  am  so  glad  that  we 
have  a  wild  turkey.  And  you  shall  have  your  side-bone." 
The  girl  carved  deftly,  feverishly,  talking  the  while,  aided 
by  that  most  kind  and  accomplished  of  hosts,  her  father. 
In  the  corner  the  dreaded  skeleton  of  the  subject  grinned 
sardonically.  Were  they  going  to  be  able  to  keep  it  off? 
There  was  to  be  no  help  from  Judge  Whipple,  who  sat  in 
grim  silence.  A  man  who  feels  his  soul  burning  is  not 
given  to  small  talk.  Virginia  alone  had  ever  possessed 
the  power  to  make  him  forget. 

"  Uncle  Silas,  I  am  sure  there  are  some  things  about 
our  trip  that  we  never  told  you.  How  we  saw  Napoleon 


THE   BREACH   BECOMES   TOO   WIDE          245 

and  his  beautiful  Empress  driving  in  the  Bois,  and  how 
Eugenie  smiled  and  bowed  at  the  people.  I  never  saw 
such  enthusiasm  in  my  life.  And  oh,  I  learned  such  a  lot 
of  French  history.  All  about  Francis  the  First,  and  Pa 
took  me  to  see  his  chateaus  along  the  Loire.  Very  few 
tourists  go  there.  You  really  ought  to  have  gone  with  us." 

Take  care,  Virginia ! 

"I  had  other  work  to  do,  Jinny,"  said  the  Judge. 

Virginia  rattled  on. 

"  I  told  you  that  we  stayed  with  a  real  lord  in  England, 
didn't  I  ?  "  said  she.  "  He  wasn't  half  as  nice  as  the  Prince. 
But  he  had  a  beautiful  house  in  Surrey,  all  windows,  which 
was  built  in  Elizabeth's  time.  They  called  the  architec 
ture  Tudor,  didn't  they,  Pa?" 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  the  Colonel,  smiling. 

"  The  Countess  was  nice  to  me,"  continued  the  girl, 
"and  took  me  to  garden  parties.  But  Lord  Jermyn  was 
always  talking  politics." 

The  Colonel  was  stroking  his  goatee. 

"Tell  Silas  about  the  house,  Jinny.  Jackson,  help  the 
Judge  again." 

"No,"  said  Virginia,  drawing  a  breath.  "I'm  going  to 
tell  him  about  that  queer  club  where  my  great-grand 
father  used  to  bet  with  Charles  Fox.  We  saw  a  great 
many  places  where  Richard  Carvel  had  been  in  England. 
That  was  before  the  Revolution.  Uncle  Daniel  read  me 
some  of  his  memoirs  when  we  were  at  Calvert  House.  I 
know  that  you  would  be  interested  in  them,  Uncle  Silas. 
He  sailed  under  Paul  Jones." 

"  And  fought  for  his  country  and  for  his  flag,  Virginia," 
said  the  Judge,  who  had  scarcely  spoken  until  then.  "  No, 
I  could  not  bear  to  read  them  now,  when  those  who  should 
love  that  country  are  leaving  it  in  passion." 

There  was  a  heavy  silence.  Virginia  did  not  dare  to 
look  at  her  father.  But  the  Colonel  said,  gently  :  — 

"Not  in  passion,  Silas,  but  in  sorrow." 

The  Judge  tightened  his  lips.  But  the  effort  was  be 
yond  him,  and  the  flood  within  him  broke  loose. 

"  Colonel  Carvel,"  he  cried,  "  South  Carolina  is  mad ! 


246  THE   CRISIS 

She  is  departing  in  sin,  in  order  that  a  fiendish  practice 
may  be  perpetuated.  If  her  people  stopped  to  think  they 
would  know  that  slavery  cannot  exist  except  by  means  of 
this  Union.  But  let  this  milksop  of  a  President  do  his 
worst.  We  have  chosen  a  man  who  has  the  strength  to 
say,  4  You  shall  not  go ! ' ' 

It  was  an  awful  moment.  The  saving  grace  of  it  was 
that  respect  and  love  for  her  father  filled  Virginia's  heart. 
In  his  just  anger  Colonel  Carvel  remembered  that  he  was 
the  host,  and  strove  to  think  only  of  his  affection  for  his 
old  friend. 

"  To  invade  a  sovereign  state,  sir,  is  a  crime  against  the 
sacred  spirit  of  this  government,"  he  said. 

"There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  sovereign  state,  sir," 
exclaimed  the  Judge,  hotly.  "I  am  an  American,  and 
not  a  Missourian." 

44  When  the  time  comes,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel,  with  dig 
nity,  "  Missouri  will  join  with  her  sister  sovereign  states 
against  oppression." 

"  Missouri  will  not  secede,  sir." 

"  Why  not,  sir?"  demanded  the  Colonel. 

"  Because,  sir,  when  the  worst  comes,  the  Soothing  Syrup 
men  will  rally  for  the  Union.  And  there  are  enough  loyal 
people  here  to  keep  her  straight." 

"Dutchmen,  sir!  Hessians!  Foreign  Republican  hire 
lings,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  standing  up.  "We 
shall  drive  them  like  sheep  if  they  oppose  us.  You  are 
drilling  them  now  that  they  may  murder  your  own  blood, 
when  you  think  the  time  is  ripe." 

The  Colonel  did  not  hear  Virginia  leave  the  room,  so  softly 
had  she  gone.  He  made  a  grand  figure  of  a  man  as  he  stood 
up,  straight  and  tall,  those  gray  eyes  a-kindle  at  last.  But 
the  fire  died  as  quickly  as  it  had  flared.  Pity  had  corne 
and  quenched  it,  —  pity  that  an  unselfish  life  of  suffering 
and  loneliness  should  be  crowned  with  these.  The  Colonel 
longed  then  to  clasp  his  friend  in  his  arms.  Quarrels  they 
had  had  by  the  hundred,  never  yet  a  misunderstanding. 
God  had  given  to  Silas  Whipple  a  nature  stern  and  harsh 
that  repelled  all  save  the  charitable  few  whose  gift  it  was 


THE   BREACH   BECOMES   TOO   WIDE          247 

to  see  below  the  surface,  and  Colonel  Carvel  had  been  the 
chief  of  them.  Bat  now  the  Judge's  vision  was  clouded. 

Steadying  himself  by  his  chair,  he  had  risen  glaring,  the 
loose  skin  twitching  on  his  sallow  face.  He  began  firmly, 
but  his  voice  shook  ere  he  had  finished. 

"  Colonel  Carvel,"  said  he,  "  I  expect  that  the  day  has 
come  when  you  go  your  way  and  I  go  mine.  It  will  be 
better  if  —  we  do  not  meet  again,  sir." 

And  so  he  turned  from  the  man  whose  friendship  had 
stayed  him  for  the  score  of  years  he  had  battled  with  his 
enemies,  from  that  house  which  had  been  for  so  long  his 
only  home.  For  the  last  time  Jackson  came  forward  to 
help  him  with  his  coat.  The  Judge  did  not  see  him, 
nor  did  he  see  the  tearful  face  of  a  young  girl  leaning 
over  the  banisters  above.  Ice  was  on  the  stones.  And 
Mr.  Whipple,  blinded  by  a  moisture  strange  to  his  eyes, 
clung  to  the  iron  railing  as  he  felt  his  way  down  the  steps. 
Before  he  reached  the  bottom  a  stronger  arm  had  seized 
his  own,  and  was  helping  him. 

The  Judge  brushed  his  eyes  with  his  sleeve,  and  turned 
a  defiant  face  upon  Captain  Elijah  Brent  —  then  his  voice 
broke.  His  anger  was  suddenly  gone,  and  his  thoughts 
had  flown  back  to  the  Colonel's  thousand  charities. 

"  Lige,"  he  said,  "  Lige,  it  has  come." 

In  answer  the  Captain  pressed  the  Judge's  hand,  nod 
ding  vigorously  to  hide  his  rising  emotion.  There  was  a 
pause. 

"And  you,  Lige?"  said  Mr.  Whipple,  presently. 

"My  God!"  cried  the  Captain,  "I  wish  I  knew." 

"  Lige,"  said  the  Judge,  gravely,  "you're  too  good  a  man 
to  be  for  Soothing  Syrup." 

The  Captain  choked. 

"  You're  too  smart  to  be  fooled,  Lige,"  he  said,  with  a 
note  near  to  pleading.  "  The  time  has  come  when  you 
Bell  people  and  the  Douglas  people  have  got  to  decide. 
Never  in  my  life  did  I  know  it  to  do  good  to  dodge  a  ques 
tion.  We've  got  to  be  white  or  black,  Lige.  Nobody's 
got  much  use  for  the  grays.  And  don't  let  yourself  be 
fooled  with  Constitutional  Union  Meetings,  and  Condi- 


248  THE   CRISIS 

tional  Union  Meetings,  and  compromises.  The  time  is 
almost  here,  Lige,  when  it  will  take  a  rascal  to  steer  it 
middle  course." 

Captain  Lige  listened,  and  he  shifted  from  one  foot  to 
the  other,  and  rubbed  his  hands,  which  were  red.     Some 
odd  trick  of  the  mind  had  put  into  his  head  two  people  - 
Eliphalet  Hopper  and  Jacob  Cluyme.     Was  he  like  them? 

"  Lige,  you've  got  to  decide.  Do  you  love  your  coun 
try,  sir?  Can  you  look  on  while  our  own  states  defy  us, 
and  not  lift  a  hand  ?  Can  you  sit  still  while  the  Governor 
and  all  the  secessionists  in  this  state  are  plotting  to  take 
Missouri,  too,  out  of  the  Union  ?  The  militia  is  riddled 
with  rebels,  and  the  rest  are  forming  companies  of  minute- 
men." 

"And  you  Black  Republicans,"  the  Captain  cried, 
"have  organized  your  Dutch  Wideawakes,  and  are  arm 
ing  them  to  resist  Americans  born." 

"They  are  Americans  by  our  Constitution,  sir,  which 
the  South  pretends  to  revere,"  cried  the  Judge.  "And 
they  are  showing  themselves  better  Americans  than  many 
who  have  been  on  the  soil  for  generations." 

"  My  sympathies  are  with  the  South,"  said  the  Captain, 
doggedly,  "  and  my  love  is  for  the  South." 

"  And  your  conscience  ?  "  said  the  Judge. 

There  was  no  answer.  Both  men  raised  their  eyes  to 
the  house  of  him  whose  loving  hospitality  had  been  a  light 
in  the  lives  of  both.  When  at  last  the  Captain  spoke,  his 
voice  was  rent  with  feeling. 

"  Judge,"  he  began,  "  when  I  was  a  poor  young  man  on 
the  old  Vickslurg,  second  officer  under  old  Stetson,  Colonel 
Carvel  used  to  take  me  up  to  his  house  on  Fourth  Street 
to  dinner.  And  he  gave  me  the  clothes  on  my  back,  so 
that  I  might  not  be  ashamed  before  the  fashion  which  came 
there.  He  treated  me  like  a  son,  sir.  One  day  the  sheriff 
sold  the  Vicksburg.  You  remember  it.  That  left  me  high 
and  dry  in  the  mud.  Who  bought  her,  sir  ?  Colonel  Car 
vel.  And  he  says  to  me,  4  Lige,  you're  captain  now,  the 
youngest  captain  on  the  river.  And  she's  your  boat.  You 
can  pay  me  principal  and  interest  when  you  get  ready.' 


THE   BBEACH   BECOMES   TOO   WIDE          249 

Judge  Whipple,  I  never  had  any  other  home  than  right  in 
this  house.  I  never  had  any  other  pleasure  than  bringing 
Jinny  presents,  and  tryin'  to  show  'em  gratitude.  He 
took  me  into  his  house  and  cared  for  me  at  a  time  when 
I  wanted  to  go  to  the  devil  along  with  the  stevedores  — 
when  I  was  a  wanderer  he  kept  me  out  of  the  streets,  and 
out  of  temptation.  Judge,  I9d  a  heap  rather  go  down  and 
jump  off  the  stern  of  my  boat  than  step  in  here  and  tell 
him  I'd  fight  for  the  North." 

The  Judge  steadied  himself  on  his  hickory  stick  and 
walked  off  without  a  word.  For  a  while  Captain  Lige 
stood  staring  after  him.  Then  he  slowly  climbed  the  steps 
and  disappeared. 


CHAPTER   XV 

MUTTERINGS 

EARLY  in  the  next  year,  1861, — that  red  year  in  the 
Calendar  of  our  history,  —  several  gentlemen  met  secretly 
in  the  dingy  counting-room  of  a  prominent  citizen  to  con 
sider  how  the  state  of  Missouri  might  be  saved  to  the 
Union.  One  of  these  gentlemen  was  Judge  Whipple ; 
another,  Mr.  Brinsmade  ;  and  another  a  masterly  and  fear 
less  lawyer  who  afterward  became  a  general,  and  who  shall 
be  mentioned  in  these  pages  as  the  Leader.  By  his  dash 
and  boldness  and  statesmanlike  grasp  of  a  black  situation 
St.  Louis  was  snatched  from  the  very  bosom  of  secession. 

Alas,  that  chronicles  may  not  stretch  so  as  to  embrace 
all  great  men  of  a  time.  There  is  Captain  Nathaniel  Lyon, 
—  name  with  the  fateful  ring.  Nathaniel  Lyon,  with  the 
wild  red  hair  and  blue  eye,  born  and  bred  a  soldier,  ordered 
to  St.  Louis,  and  become  subordinate  to  a  wavering  officer 
of  ordnance.  Lyon  was  one  who  brooked  no  trifling.  He 
had  the  face  of  a  man  who  knows  his  mind  and  intention ; 
the  quick  speech  and  action  which  go  with  this.  Red  tape 
made  by  the  reel  to  bind  him,  he  broke.  Courts-martial 
had  no  terrors  for  him.  He  proved  the  ablest  of  lieutenants 
to  the  strong  civilian  who  was  the  Leader.  Both  were  the 
men  of  the  occasion.  If  God  had  willed  that  the  South 
should  win,  there  would  have  been  no  occasion. 

Even  as  Judge  Whipple  had  said,  the  time  was  come  for 
all  men  to  decide.  Out  of  the  way,  all  hopes  of  com 
promises  that  benumbed  Washington.  No  Constitutional 
Unionists,  no  Douglas  Democrats,  no  Republicans  now. 

All  must  work  to  save  the  ship.  The  speech-making  was 
not  done  with  yet.  Partisanship  must  be  overcome,  and  pa 
triotism  instilled  in  its  place.  One  day  Stephen  Brice  saw 

250 


MUTTERINGS  251 

the  Leader  go  into  Judge  Whipple's  room,  and  presently 
he  was  sent  for.  After  that  he  was  heard  of  in  various  out- 
of-the-way  neighborhoods,  exhorting  all  men  to  forget 
their  quarrels  and  uphold  the  flag. 

The  Leader  himself  knew  not  night  from  day  in  his  toil, 
—  organizing,  conciliating,  compelling  when  necessary. 
Letters  passed  between  him  and  Springfield.  And,  after 
that  solemn  inauguration,  between  him  and  Washington. 
It  was  an  open  secret  that  the  Governor  of  Missouri  held 
out  his  arms  to  Jefferson  Davis,  just  elected  President  of 
the  new  Southern  Confederacy.  It  soon  became  plain  to 
the  feeblest  brain  what  the  Leader  and  his  friends  had  per 
ceived  long  before,  that  the  Governor  intended  to  use  the 
militia  (purged  of  Yankee  sympathizers)  to  save  the  state 
for  the  South. 

The  Government  Arsenal,  with  its  stores  of  arms  and  am 
munition,  was  the  prize.  This  building  and  its  grounds 
lay  to  the  south  of  the  City,  overlooking  the  river.  It  was 
in  command  of  a  doubting  major  of  ordnance ;  the  corps  of 
officers  of  Jefferson  Barracks  hard  by  was  mottled  with 
secession.  Trade  was  still.  The  Mississippi  below  was 
practically  closed.  In  all  the  South,  Pickens  and  Sumter 
alone  stood  stanch  to  the  flag.  A  general,  wearing  the 
uniform  of  the  army  of  the  United  States,  surrendered  the 
whole  state  of  Texas. 

The  St.  Louis  Arsenal  was  next  in  succession,  and  the 
little  band  of  regulars  at  the  Barracks  was  powerless  to 
save  it.  What  could  the  Leader  and  Captain  Lyon  do 
without  troops?  That  was  the  question  that  rang  in 
Stephen's  head,  and  in  the  heads  of  many  others.  For,  if 
President  Lincoln  sent  troops  to  St.  Louis,  that  would 
precipitate  the  trouble.  And  the  President  had  other  uses 
for  the  handful  in  the  army. 

There  came  a  rain-sodden  night  when  a  mysterious  mes 
sage  arrived  at  the  little  house  in  Olive  Street.  Both 
anxiety  and  pride  were  in  Mrs.  Brice's  eyes  as  they  followed 
her  son  out  of  the  door.  At  Twelfth  Street  two  men  were 
lounging  on  the  corners,  each  of  whom  glanced  at  him  list 
lessly  as  he  passed.  He  went  up  a  dark  and  narrow  stair 


252  THE   CRISIS 

into  a  lighted  hall  with  shrouded  windows.  Men  with 
sober  faces  were  forming  line  on  the  sawdust  of  the  floors. 
The  Leader  was  there  giving  military  orders  in  a  low  voice. 
That  marked  the  beginning  of  the  aggressive  Union  move 
ment. 

Stephen,  standing  apart  at  the  entrance,  remarked  that 
many  of  the  men  were  Germans.  Indeed,  he  spied  his 
friend  Tiefel  there,  and  presently  Richter  came  from  the 
ranks  to  greet  him. 

"My  friend,"  he  said,  "you  are  made  second  lieutenant 
of  our  company,  the  Black  Jaegers.'" 

"  But  I  have  never  drilled  in  my  life,"  said  Stephen. 

"Never  mind.     Come  and  see  the  Leader." 

The  Leader,  smiling  a  little,  put  a  vigorous  stop  to  his 
protestations,  and  told  him  to  buy  a  tactics.  The  next 
man  Stephen  saw  was  big  Tom  Catherwood,  who  blushed 
to  the  line  of  his  hair  as  he  returned  Stephen's  grip. 

"  Tom,  what  does  this  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,"  said  Torn,  embarrassed,  "  a  fellow  has  got  to  do 
what  he  think's  right." 

"  And  your  family  ?  "  asked  Stephen. 

A  spasm  crossed  Tom's  face. 

"  I  reckon  they'll  disown  me,  Stephen,  when  they  find 
it  out." 

Richter  walked  home  as  far  as  Stephen's  house.  He 
was  to  take  the  Fifth  Street  car  for  South  St.  Louis. 
And  they  talked  of  Tom's  courage,  and  of  the  broad  and 
secret  military  organization  the  Leader  had  planned  that 
night.  But  Stephen  did  not  sleep  till  the  dawn.  Was  he 
doing  right  ?  Could  he  afford  to  risk  his  life  in  the  war  that 
was  coming,  and  leave  his  mother  dependent  upon  charity  ? 

It  was  shortly  after  this  that  Stephen  paid  his  last  visit 
for  many  a  long  day  upon  Miss  Puss  Russell.  It  was  a 
Sunday  afternoon,  and  Puss  was  entertaining,  as  usual,  a 
whole  parlor-full  of  young  men,  whose  leanings  and  sym 
pathies  Stephen  divined  while  taking  off  his  coat  in  the 
hall.  Then  he  heard  Miss  Russell  cry  :  — 

"  I  believe  that  they  are  drilling  those  nasty  Dutch  hire 
lings  in  secret." 


MUTTERINGS  253 

" 1  am  sure  they  are,"  said  George  Catherwood.  "  One 
of  the  halls  is  on  Twelfth  Street,  and  they  have  sentries 
posted  out  so  that  you  can't  get  near  them.  Pa  has  an 
idea  that  Tom  goes  there.  And  he  told  him  that  if  he 
ever  got  evidence  of  it,  he'd  show  him  the  door." 

"  Do  you  really  think  that  Tom  is  with  the  Yankees  ?  " 
asked  Jack  Brinsmade. 

"  Tom's  a  fool,"  said  George,  with  emphasis,  "  but  he 
isn't  a  coward.  He'd  just  as  soon  tell  Pa  to-morrow  that 
he  was  drilling  if  the  Yankee  leaders  wished  it  known." 

"  Virginia  will  never  speak  to  him  again,"  said  Eugenie, 
in  an  awed  voice. 

"Pooh!"  said  Puss,  "Tom  never  had  a  chance  with 
Jinny.  Did  he,  George  ?  Clarence  is  in  high  favor  now. 
Did  you  ever  know  any  one  to  change  so,  since  this  mili 
tary  business  has  begun  ?  He  acts  like  a  colonel.  I  hear 
that  they  are  thinking  of  making  him  captain  of  a  com 
pany  of  dragoons." 

"  They  are,"  George  answered.  "  And  that  is  the  com 
pany  I  intend  to  join." 

"Well,"  began  Puss,  with  her  usual  recklessness,  "it's 
a  good  thing  for  Clarence  that  all  this  is  happening.  I 
know  somebody  else  —  " 

Poor  Stephen  in  the  hall  knew  not  whether  to  stay  or  fly. 
An  accident  decided  the  question.  Emily  Russell  came 
down  the  stairs  at  that  instant  and  spoke  to  him.  As  the 
two  entered  the  parlor,  there  was  a  hush  pregnant  with 
many  things  unsaid.  Puss's  face  was  scarlet,  but  her  hand 
was  cold  as  she  held  it  out  to  him.  For  the  first  time  in 
that  house  he  felt  like  an  intruder.  Jack  Brinsmade 
bowed  with  great  ceremony,  and  took  his  departure. 
There  was  scarcely  a  distant  cordiality  in  the  greeting  of 
the  other  young  men.  And  Puss,  whose  tongue  was  loosed 
again,  talked  rapidly  of  entertainments  to  which  Stephen 
either  had  not  been  invited,  or  from  which  he  had  stayed 
away.  The  rest  of  the  company  were  almost  moodily 
silent. 

Profoundly  depressed,  Stephen  sat  straight  in  the  velvet 
chair,  awaiting  a  seasonable  time  to  bring  his  visit  to  a  close. 


254  THE   CRISIS 

This  was  to  be  the  last,  then,  of  his  intercourse  with  a  warm 
hearted  and  lovable  people.  This  was  to  be  the  end  of  his 
friendship  with  this  impetuous  and  generous  girl  who  had 
done  so  much  to  brighten  his  life  since  he  had  come  to  St. 
Louis.  Henceforth  this  house  would  be  shut  to  him,  and 
all  others  save  Mr.  Brinsmade's. 

.  Presently,  in  one  of  the  intervals  of  Miss  Russell's  fever 
ish' talk,  he  rose  to  go.  Dusk  was  gathering,  and  a  deep 
and  ominous  silence  penetrated  like  the  shadows  into  the 
tall  room.  No  words  came  to  him.  Impulsively,  almost 
tearfully,  Puss  put  her  hand  in  his.  Then  she  pressed  it 
unexpectedly,  so  that  he  had  to  gulp  down  a  lump  that 
was  in  his  throat.  Just  then  a  loud  cry  was  heard  from 
without,  the  men  jumped  from  their  chairs,  and  something 
heavy  dropped  on  the  carpet. 

Some  ran  to  the  window,  others  to  the  door.  Directly 
across  the  street  was  the  house  of  Mr.  Harmsworth,  a  noted 
Union  man.  One  of  the  third  story  windows  was  open, 
and  out  of  it  was  pouring  a  mass  of  gray  wood  smoke. 
George  Catherwood  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  I  hope  it  will  burn  down,"  he  cried. 

Stephen  picked  up  the  object  on  the  floor,  which  had 
dropped  from  his  pocket,  and  handed  it  to  him. 

It  was  a  revolver. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE   GUNS    OF   SUMTER 

WINTER  had  vanished.  Spring  was  come  with  a  hush. 
Toward  a  little  island  set  in  the  blue  waters  of  Charleston 
harbor  anxious  eyes  were  strained. 

Was  the  flag  still  there  ? 

God  alone  may  count  the  wives  and  mothers  who  lis 
tened  in  the  still  hours  of  the  night  for  the  guns  of  Sumter. 
One  sultry  night  in  April  Stephen's  mother  awoke  with 
fear  in  her  heart,  for  she  had  heard  them.  Hark !  that 
is  the  roar  now,  faint  but  sullen.  That  is  the  red  flash 
far  across  the  black  Southern  sky.  For  in  our  beds  are 
the  terrors  and  cruelties  of  life  revealed  to  us.  There  is 
a  demon  to  be  faced,  and  fought  alone. 

Mrs.  Brice  was  a  brave  woman.  She  walked  that  night 
with  God. 

Stephen,  too,  awoke.  The  lightning  revealed  her  as 
she  bent  over  him.  On  the  wings  of  memory  he  flew  back 
to  his  childhood  in  the  great  Boston  house  with  the 
rounded  front,  and  he  saw  the  nursery  with  its  high  win 
dows  looking  out  across  the  Common.  Often  in  the  dark 
had  she  come  to  him  thus,  her  gentle  hand  passing  over 
him  to  feel  if  he  were  covered. 

"  What  is  it,  mother?  "  he  said. 

She  said :  "  Stephen,  I  am  afraid  that  the  war  has  come." 

He  sat  up,  blindly.  Even  he  did  not  guess  the  agony 
in  her  heart. 

"  You  will  have  to  go,  Stephen." 

It  was  long  before  his  answer  came. 

"  You  know  that  I  cannot,  mother.  We  have  nothing 
left  but  the  little  I  earn.  And  if  I  were—  He  did  not 
finish  the  sentence,  for  he  felt  her  trembling.  But  she 

255 


256  THE   CRISIS 

said  again,  with  that  courage  which  seems  woman's 
alone :  — 

"  Remember  Wilton  Brice.  Stephen  —  I  can  get  along. 
I  can  sew." 

It  was  the  hour  he  had  dreaded,  stolen  suddenly  upon 
him  out  of  the  night.  How  many  times  had  he  rehearsed 
this  scene  to  himself !  He,  Stephen  Brice,  who  had 
preached  and  slaved  and  drilled  for  the  Union,  a  renegade 
to  be  shunned  by  friend  and  foe  alike !  He  had  talked 
for  his  country,  but  he  would  not  risk  his  life  for  it.  He 
heard  them  repeating  the  charge.  He  saw  them  passing 
him  silently  on  the  street.  Shamefully  he  remembered 
the  time,  five  months  agone,  when  he  had  worn  the  very 
uniform  of  his  Revolutionary  ancestor.  And  high  above 
the  tier  of  his  accusers  he  saw  one  face,  and  the  look  of  it 
stung  to  the  very  quick  of  his  soul. 

Before  the  storm  he  had  fallen  asleep  in  sheer  weariness 
of  the  struggle,  that  face  shining  through  the  black  veil 
of  the  darkness.  If  he  were  to  march  away  in  the  blue  of 
his  country  (alas,  not  of  hers !)  she  would  respect  him 
foi  risking  life  for  conviction.  If  he  stayed  at  home,  she 
would  not  understand.  It  was  his  plain  duty  to  his 
mother.  And  yet  he  knew  that  Virginia  Carvel  and  the 
women  like  her  were  ready  to  follow  with  bare  feet  the 
march  of  the  soldiers  of  the  South. 

The  rain  was  come  now,  in  a  flood.  Stephen's  mother 
could  not  see  in  the  blackness  the  bitterness  on  his  face. 
Above  the  roar  of  the  waters  she  listened  for  his  voice. 

"  I  will  not  go,  mother,"  he  said.  "  If  at  length  every 
man  is  needed,  that  will  be  different." 

"  It  is  for  you  to  decide,  my  son,"  she  answered.  "  There 
are  many  ways  in  which  you  can  serve  your  country  here. 
But  remember  that  you  may  have  to  face  hard  things." 

"  I  have  had  to  do  that  before,  mother,"  he  replied 
calmly.  "  I  cannot  leave  you  dependent  upon  charity." 

She  went  back  into  her  room  to  pray,  for  she  knew  that 
he  had  laid  his  ambition  at  her  feet. 

It  was  not  until  a  week  later  that  the  dreaded  news 
came.  All  through  the  Friday  shells  had  rained  on  the 


THE   GUNS   OF  SUMTER  257 

little  fort  while  Charleston  looked  on.  No  surrender  yet. 
Through  a  wide  land  was  that  numbness  which  precedes 
action.  Force  of  habit  sent  men  to  their  places  of  busi 
ness,  to  sit  idle.  A  prayerful  Sunday  intervened.  Sumter 
had  fallen.  South  Carolina  had  shot  to  bits  the  flag  she 
had  once  revered. 

On  the  Monday  came  the  call  of  President  Lincoln  for 
volunteers.  Missouri  was  asked  for  her  quota.  The  out 
raged  reply  of  her  governor  went  back,  —  never  would  she 
furnish  troops  to  invade  her  sister  states.  Little  did  Gov 
ernor  Jackson  foresee  that  Missouri  was  to  stand  fifth  of 
all  the  Union  in  the  number  of  men  she  was  to  give.  To 
her  was  credited  in  the  end  even  more  men  than  stanch 
Massachusetts. 

The  noise  of  preparation  was  in  the  city  —  in  the  land. 
On  the  Monday  morning,  when  Stephen  went  wearily  to 
the  office,  he  was  met  by  Richter  at  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
who  seized  his  shoulders  and  looked  into  his  face.  The 
light  of  the  zealot  was  on  Richter's  own. 

"  We  shall  drill  every  night  now,  my  friend,  until  further 
orders.  It  is  the  Leader's  word.  Until  we  go  to  the  front, 
Stephen,  to  put  down  rebellion."  Stephen  sank  into  a 
chair,  and  bowed  his  head.  What  would  he  think,  — this 
man  who  had  fought  arid  suffered  and  renounced  his  native 
land  for  his  convictions?  Who  in  this  nobler  allegiance 
was  ready  to  die  for  them  ?  How  was  he  to  confess  to 
Richter,  of  all  men? 

"  Carl,"  he  said  at  length,  "I  —  I  cannot  go." 

"You  —  you  cannot  go?  You  who  have  done  so  much 
already  !  And  why  ?  " 

Stephen  did  not  answer.  But  Richter,  suddenly  divin 
ing,  laid  his  hands  impulsively  on  Stephen's  shoulders. 

" Aeh,  I  see,"  he  said.  "Stephen,  I  have  saved  some 
money.  It  shall  be  for  your  mother  while  you  are  away." 

At  first  Stephen  was  too  surprised  for  speech.  Then, 
in  spite  of  his  feelings,  he  stared  at  the  German  with  a 
new  appreciation  of  his  character.  Then  he  could  merely 
shake  its  head. 

"  Is  it  not  for  the  Union  ?  "  implored  Richter.     "  I  would 


258  THE  CRISIS 

give  a  fortune,  if  I  had  it.  Ah,  my  friend,  that  would 
please  me  so.  Arid  I  do  not  need  the  money  now.  I 
have  —  nobody." 

Spring  was  in  the  air ;  the  first  faint  smell  of  verdure 
wafted  across  the  river  on  the  wind.  Stephen  turned  to 
the  open  window,  tears  of  intense  agony  in  his  eyes.  In 
that  instant  he  saw  the  regiment  marching,  and  the  flag 
flying  at  its  head. 

"  It  is  my  duty  to  stay  here,  Carl,"  he  said  brokenly. 

Richter  took  an  appealing  step  toward  him  and  stopped. 
He  realized  that  with  this  young  New  Englander  a  deci 
sion  once  made  was  unalterable.  In  all  his  knowledge 
of  Stephen  he  never  remembered  him  to  change.  With 
the  demonstrative  sympathy  of  his  race,  he  yearned  to 
comfort  him,  and  knew  not  how.  Two  hundred  years 
of  Puritanism  had  reared  barriers  not  to  be  broken  down. 

At  the  end  of  the  office  the  stern  figure  of  the  Judge 
appeared. 

"Mr.  Brice  !  "  he  said  sharply. 

Stephen  followed  him  into  the  littered  room  behind  the 
ground  glass  door,  scarce  knowing  what  to  expect,  —  and 
scarce  caring,  as  on  that  first  day  he  had  gone  in  there. 
Mr.  Whipple  himself  closed  the  door,  and  then  the  tran 
som.  Stephen  felt  those  keen  eyes  searching  him  from 
their  hiding-place. 

"Mr.  Brice,"  he  said  at  last,  "the  President  has  called 
for  seventy-five  thousand  volunteers  to  crush  this  rebel 
lion.  They  will  go,  and  be  swallowed  up,  and  more  will 
go  to  fill  their  places.  Mr.  Brice,  people  will  tell  you  that 
the  war  will  be  over  in  ninety  days.  But  I  tell  you,  sir, 
that  it  will  not  be  over  in  seven  times  ninety  days."  He 
brought  down  his  fist  heavily  upon  the  table.  "  This,  sir, 
will  be  a  war  to  the  death.  One  side  or  the  other  will 
fight  until  their  blood  is  all  let,  and  until  their  homes  are 
afl  ruins."  He  darted  at  Stephen  one  look  from  under 
those  fierce  eyebrows.  "  Do  you  intend  to  go,  sir?  " 

Stephen  met  the  look  squarely.  "  No,  sir,"  he  answered, 
steadily,  "  not  now." 

"Humph,"   said   the   Judge.       Then    he    began   what 


THE   GUNS   OF   SUMTER  259 

seemed  a  never-ending  search  among  the  papers  on  his 
desk.  At  length  he  drew  out  a  letter,  put  on  his  spec 
tacles  and  read  it,  and  finally  put  it  down  again. 

"  Stephen,"  said  Mr.  Whipple,  "  you  are  doing  a  cour 
ageous  thing.  But  if  we  elect  to  follow  our  conscience 
in  this  world,  we  must  not  expect  to  escape  persecution, 
sir.  Two  weeks  ago,"  he  continued  slowly,  "two  weeks 
ago  I  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Lincoln  about  matters  here. 
He  mentions  you." 

"  He  remembers  me  !  "  cried  Stephen. 

The  Judge  smiled  a  little.  "Mr.  Lincoln  never  forgets 
any  one,"  said  he.  "  He  wishes  me  to  extend  to  you  his 
thanks  for  your  services  to  the  Republican  party,  and 
sends  you  his  kindest  regards." 

This  was  the  first  and  only  time  that  Mr.  Whipple  spoke 
to  him  of  his  labors.  Stephen  has  often  laughed  at  this 
since,  and  said  that  he  would  not  have  heard  of  them  at 
all  had  not  the  Judge's  sense  of  duty  compelled  him  to 
convey  the  message.  And  it  was  with  a  lighter  heart 
than  he  had  felt  for  many  a  day  that  he  went  out  of  the 
door. 

Some  weeks  later,  five  regiments  were  mustered  into 
the  service  of  the  United  States.  The  Leader  was  in  com 
mand  of  one.  And  in  response  to  his  appeals,  despite  the 
presence  of  officers  of  higher  rank,  the  President  had 
given  Captain  Nathaniel  Lyon  supreme  command  in 
Missouri. 

Stephen  stood  among  the  angry,  jeering  crowd  that 
lined  the  streets  as  the  regiments  marched  past.  Here 
were  the  Black  Jaegers.  No  wonder  the  crowd  laughed. 
Their  step  was  not  as  steady,  nor  their  files  as  straight, 
as  Company  A.  There  was  Richter,  his  head  high,  his 
blue  eyes  defiant.  And  there  was  little  Tiefel  marching 
in  that  place  of  second  lieutenant  that  Stephen  himself 
should  have  filled.  Here  was  another  company,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  first  four,  big  Tom  Catherwood.  His 
father  had  disowned  him  the  day  before.  His  two 
brothers,  George  and  little  Spencer,  were  in  a  house  not 
far  away,  —  a  house  from  which  a  strange  flag  drooped. 


260  THE   CRISIS 

Clouds  were  lowering  over  the  city,  and  big  drops  fall 
ing,  as  Stephen  threaded  his  way  homeward,  the  damp 
and  gloom  of  the  weather  in  his  very  soul.  He  went  past 
the  house  where  the  strange  flag  hung  against  its  staff. 
In  that  big  city  it  flaunted  all  unchallenged.  The  house 
was  thrown  wide  open  that  day,  and  in  its  windows 
lounged  young  men  of  honored  families.  And  while  they 
joked  of  German  boorishness  and  Yankee  cowardice  they 
held  rifles  across  their  knees  to  avenge  any  insult  to  the 
strange  banner  that  they  had  set  up.  In  the  hall,  through 
the  open  doorway,  the  mouth  of  a  shotted  field  gun  could 
be  seen.  The  guardians  were  the  Minute  Men,  organ 
ized  to  maintain  the  honor  and  dignity  of  the  state  of 
Missouri. 

Across  the  street  from  the  house  was  gathered  a  knot  of 
curious  people,  and  among  these  Stephen  paused.  Two 
young  men  were  standing  on  the  steps,  and  one  was  Clar 
ence  Colfax.  His  hands  were  in  his  pockets,  and  a  care 
less,  scornful  smile  was  on  his  face  when  he  glanced  down 
into  the  street.  Stephen  caught  that  smile.  Anger  swept 
over  him  in  a  hot  flame,  as  at  the  slave  auction  years 
agone.  That  was  the  unquenchable  fire  of  the  war.  The 
blood  throbbed  in  his  temples  as  his  feet  obeyed,  —  and 
yet  he  stopped. 

What  right  had  he  to  pull  down  that  flag,  to  die  on  the 
pavement  before  that  house  ? 


CHAPTER  XVII 

CAMP  JACKSON 

WHAT  enthusiasm  on  that  gusty  Monday  morning,  the 
Sixth  of  May,  1861  !  Twelfth  Street  to  the  north  of 
the  Market  House  is  full  three  hundred  feet  across,  and 
the  militia  of  the  Sovereign  State  of  Missouri  is  gather 
ing  there.  Thence  by  order  of  her  Governor  they  are  to 
march  to  Camp  Jackson  for  a  week  of  drill  and  instruction. 

Half  a  mile  nearer  the  river,  on  the  house  of  the  Min 
ute  Men,  the  strange  flag  leaps  wildly  in  the  wind  this  day. 

On  Twelfth  Street  the  sun  is  shining,  drums  are  beating, 
and  bands  are  playing,  and  bright  aides  dashing  hither  and 
thither  on  spirited  chargers.  One  by  one  the  companies 
are  marching  up,  and  taking  place  in  line ;  the  city  com 
panies  in  natty  gray  fatigue,  the  country  companies  often 
in  their  Sunday  clothes.  But  they  walk  with  heads  erect 
and  chests  out,  and  the  ladies  wave  their  gay  parasols  and 
cheer  them.  Here  are  the  aristocratic  St.  Louis  Grays, 
Company  A ;  there  come  the  Washington  Guards  and 
Washington  Blues,  and  Laclede  Guards  and  Missouri 
Guards  and  Davis  Guards.  Yes,  this  is  Secession  Day, 
this  Monday.  And  the  colors  are  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
and  the  Arms  of  Missouri  crossed. 

What  are  they  waiting  for?  *Why  don't  they  move? 
Hark  !  A  clatter  and  a  cloud  of  dust  by  the  market  place, 
an  ecstasy  of  cheers  running  in  waves  the  length  of  the 
crowd.  Make  way  for  the  dragoons !  Here  they  come  at 
last,  four  and  four,  the  horses  prancing  and  dancing  and 
pointing  quivering  ears  at  the  tossing  sea  of  hats  and  para 
sols  and  ribbons.  Maude  Catherwood  squeezes  Virginia's 
arm.  There,  riding  in  front,  erect  and  firm  in  the  saddle, 
is  Captain  Clarence  Colfax.  Virginia  is  red  and  white, 


262  THE   CRISIS 

and  red  again, — -true  colors  of  the  Confederacy.  How 
proud  she  was  of  him  now!  How  ashamed  that  she  ever 
doubted  him !  Oh,  that  was  his  true  calling,  a  soldier's 
life.  In  that  moment  she  saw  him  at  the  head  of  armies 
from  the  South,  driving  the  Yankee  hordes  northward 
and  still  northward  until  the  roar  of  the  lakes  warns 
them  of  annihilation.  She  saw  his  chivalry  sparing  them. 
Yes,  this  is  Secession  Monday. 

Down  to  a  trot  they  slow,  Clarence's  black  thorough 
bred  arching  his  long  neck,  proud  as  his  master  of  the 
squadron  which  follows,  four  and  four.  The  square  young 
man  of  bone  and  sinew  in  the  first  four,  whose  horse  is 
built  like  a  Crusader's,  is  George  Gather  wood.  And 
Eugenie  gives  a  cry  and  points  to  the  rear  where  Maurice 
is  riding. 

Whose  will  be  the  Arsenal  now  ?  Can  the  Yankee  regi 
ments  with  their  slouchy  Dutchmen  hope  to  capture  it? 
If  there  are  any  Yankees  in  Twelfth  Street  that  day,  they 
are  silent.  Yes,  there  are  some.  And  there  are  some  — 
even  in  the  ranks  of  this  Militia  —  who  will  fight  for  the 
Union.  These  are  sad  indeed.  » 

There  is  another  wait,  the  companies  standing  at  ease. 
Some  of  the  dragoons  dismount,  but  not  the  handsome 
}7oung  captain,  who  rides  straight  to  the  bright  group  which 
has  caught  his  eye.  Colonel  Carvel  wrings  his  gauntleted 
hand. 

"  Clarence,  we  are  proud  of  you,  sir,"  he  says. 

And  Virginia  repeats  his  words,  her  eyes  sparkling,  her 
fingers  caressing  the  silken  curve  of  Jefferson's  neck. 
"  Clarence,  you  will  drive  Captain  Lyon  and  his  Hessians 
into  the  river." 

"Hush,  Jinny,"  he  answered,  "we  are  merely  going 
into  camp  to  learn  to  drill,  that  we  may  be  ready  to  de 
fend  the  state  when  the  time  comes." 

Virginia  laughed.     "  I  had  forgotten,"  she  said. 

"  You  will  have  your  cousin  court-martialed,  my  dear," 
said  the  Colonel. 

Just  then  the  call  is  sounded.  But  he  must  needs  press 
Virginia's  hand  first,  and  allow  admiring  Maude  and  Eu- 


CAMP  JACKSON  263 

g6nie  to  press  his.  Then  he  goes  off  at  a  slow  canter 
to  join  his  dragoons,  waving  his  glove  at  them,  and  turn 
ing  to  give  the  sharp  order,  "  Attention  !  "  to  his  squadron. 

Virginia  is  deliriously  happy.  Once  more  she  has 
swept  from  her  heart  every  vestige  of  doubt.  Now  is 
Clarence  the  man  she  can  admire.  Chosen  unanimously 
captain  of  the  Squadron  but  a  few  days  since,  Clarence 
had  taken  command  like  a  veteran.  George  Catherwood 
and  Maurice  had  told  the  story. 

And  now  at  last  the  city  is  to  shake  off  the  dust  of  the 
North.  "  On  to  Camp  Jackson ! "  was  the  cry.  The 
bands  are  started,  the  general  and  staff  begin  to  move, 
and  the  column  swings  into  the  Olive  Street  road,  followed 
by  a  concourse  of  citizens  awheel  and  afoot,  the  horse  cars 
crowded.  Virginia  and  Maude  and  the  Colonel  in  the 
Carvel  carriage,  and  behind  Ned,  on  the  box,  is  their  lun 
cheon  in  a  hamper.  Standing  up,  the  girls  can  just  see 
the  nodding  plumes  of  the  dragoons  far  to  the  front. 

Olive  Street,  now  paved  with  hot  granite  and  disfigured 
by  trolley  wires,  was  a  country  road  then.  Green  trees 
took  the  place  of  crowded  rows  of  houses  and  stores,  and 
little  "  bob-tail "  yellow  cars  were  drawn  by  plodding 
mules  to  an  inclosure  in  a  timbered  valley,  surrounded  by 
a  board  fence,  known  as  Lindell  Grove.  It  was  then  a 
resort,  a  picnic  ground,  what  is  now  covered  by  close  resi 
dences  which  have  long  shown  the  wear  of  time. 

Into  Lindell  Grove  flocked  the  crowd,  the  rich  and  the 
poor,  the  proprietor  and  the  salesmen,  to  watch  the  soldiers 
pitch  their  tents  under  the  spreading  trees.  The  gallant 
dragoons  were  off  to  the  west,  across  a  little  stream  which 
trickled  through  the  grounds.  By  the  side  of  it  Virginia 
and  Maude,  enchanted,  beheld  Captain  Colfax  shouting 
his  orders  while  his  troopers  dragged  the  canvas  from  the 
wagons,  and  staggered  under  it  to  the  line.  Alas !  that 
the  girls  were  there  !  The  Captain  lost  his  temper,  his 
troopers,  perspiring  over  Gordian  knots  in  the  ropes, 
uttered  strange  soldier  oaths,  while  the  mad  wind  which 
blew  that  day  played  a  hundred  pranks. 

To  the  discomfiture  of  the  young  ladies,  Colonel  Carvel 


264  THE   CRISIS 

pulled  his  goatee  and  guffawed.  Virginia  was  for  moving 
away. 

"  How  mean,  Pa,"  she  said  indignantly.  "  How  can 
you  expect  them  to  do  it  right  the  first  day,  and  in  this 
wind?" 

"  Oh,  Jinny,  look  at  Maurice  !  "  exclaimed  Maude,  gig 
gling.  "  He  is  pulled  over  on  his  head." 

The  Colonel  roared.  And  the  gentlemen  and  ladies 
who  were  standing  by  laughed,  too.  Virginia  did  not 
laugh.  It  was  all  too  serious  for  her. 

"  You  will  see  that  they  can  fight,"  she  said.  "  They 
can  beat  the  Yankees  and  Dutch." 

This  speech  made  the  Colonel  glance  around  him. 
Then  he  smiled,  —  in  response  to  other  smiles. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  "you  must  remember  that  this  is 
a  peaceable  camp  of  instruction  of  the  state  militia. 
There  fly  the  Stars  and  Stripes  from  the  general's  tent. 
Do  you  see  that  they  are  above  the  state  flag?  Jinny, 
you  forget  yourself." 

Jinny  stamped  her  foot. 

"  Oh,  I  hate  dissimulation,"  she  cried.  "  Why  can't  we 
say  outright  that  we  are  going  to  run  that  detestable 
Captain  Lyon  and  his  Yankees  and  Hessians  out  of  the 
Arsenal?"" 

"Why  not,  Colonel  Carvel?"  cried  Maude.  She  had 
forgotten  that  one  of  her  brothers  was  with  the  Yankees 
and  Hessians. 

"Why  aren't  women  made  generals  and  governors?" 
said  the  Colonel. 

"If  we  were,"  answered  Virginia,  "something  might  be 
accomplished." 

"Isn't  Clarence  enough  of  a  fire-eater  to  suit  you?" 
asked  her  father. 

But  the  tents  were  pitched,  and  at  that  moment  the 
young  Captain  was  seen  to  hand  over  his  horse  to  an 
orderly,  and  to  come  toward  them.  He  was  followed  by 
George  Catherwood. 

"  Come,  Jinny,"  cried  her  cousin,  "  let  us  go  over  to  the 
main  camp." 


CAMP  JACKSON  265 

"  And  walk  on  Davis  Avenue,"  said  Virginia,  flushing 
with  pride.  "Isn't  there  a  Davis  Avenue?" 

"  Yes,  and  a  Lee  Avenue,  and  a  Beauregarde  Avenue," 
said  George,  taking  his  sister's  arm. 

"  We  shall  walk  in  them  all,"  said  Virginia. 

What  a  scene  of  animation  it  was !  The  rustling  trees, 
and  the  young  grass  of  early  May,  and  the  two  hundred 
and  forty  tents  in  lines  of  military  precision.  Up  and 
down  the  grassy  streets  flowed  the  promenade,  proud 
fathers  and  mothers,  and  sweethearts  and  sisters  and  wives 
in  gala  dress.  Wear  your  bright  gowns  now,  you  devoted 
women.  The  day  is  coming  when  you  will  make  them 
over  and  over  again,  or  tear  them  to  lint,  to  stanch  the 
blood  of  these  young  men  who  wear  their  new  gray  so 
well. 

Every  afternoon  Virginia  drove  with  her  father  and 
her  aunt  to  Camp  Jackson.  All  the  fashion  and  beauty 
of  the  city  were  there.  The  bands  played,  the  black 
coachmen  flecked  the  backs  of  their  shining  horses,  and 
walking  in  the  avenues  or  seated  under  the  trees  were 
natty  young  gentlemen  in  white  trousers  and  brass-but 
toned  jackets.  All  was  not  soldier  fare  at  the  regimental 
messes.  Cakes  and  jellies  and  even  ices  and  more  sub 
stantial  dainties  were  laid  beneath  those  tents.  Dress 
parade  was  one  long  sigh  of  delight.  Better  not  to  have 
been  born  than  to  have  been  a  young  man  in  St.  Louis, 
early  in  Camp  Jackson  week,  and  not  be  a  militiaman. 

One  young  man  whom  we  know,  however,  had  little 
of  pomp  and  vanity  about  him,  —  none  other  than  the 
young  manager  (some  whispered  "silent  partner")  of 
Carvel  &  Company.  If  Mr.  Eliphalet  had  had  political 
ambition,  or  political  leanings,  during  the  half-year  which 
had  just  passed,  he  had  not  shown  them.  Mr.  Cluyme 
(no  mean  business  man  himself)  had  pronounced  Eliphalet 
a  conservative  young  gentleman  who  attended  to  his  own 
affairs  and  let  the  mad  country  take  care  of  itself.  This 
is  precisely  the  wise  course  Mr.  Hopper  chose.  Seeing 
a  regiment  of  Missouri  Volunteers  slouching  down  Fifth 
Street  in  citizens'  clothes,  he  had  been  remarked  to  smile 


266  THE   CRISIS 

cynically.  But  he  kept  his  opinions  so  close  that  he  was 
supposed  not  to  have  any. 

On  Thursday^of  Camp  Jackson  week,  an  event  occurred 
in  Mr,  Carvel's  store  which  excited  a  buzz  of  comment. 
Mr/  Hopper  announced  to  Mr.  Barbo,  the  book-keener, 
that  he  should  not  be  there  after  four  o'clock.  To  be 
sure,  times  were  more  than  dull.  The  Colonel  that  morn 
ing  had  read  over  some  two  dozen  letters  from  Texas  and 
the  Southwest,  telling  of  the  impossibility  of  meeting  cer 
tain  obligations  in  the  present  state  of  the  country.  The 
Colonel  had  gone  home  to  dinner  with  his  brow  furrowed. 
On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Hopper's  equanimity  was  spoken 
of  at /the  widow's  table. 

Ai  four  o'clock,  Mr.  Hopper  took  an  Olive  Street  car, 
tucking  himself  into  the  far  corner  where  he  would  not  be 
disturbed  by  any  ladies  who  might  enter.  In  the  course 
of  an  hour  or  so,  he  alighted  at  the  western  gate  of  the 
camp  on  the  Olive  Street  road.  Refreshing  himself  with 
a  little  tobacco,  he  let  himself  be  carried  leisurely  by  the 
crowd  between  the  rows  of  tents.  A  philosophy  of  his 
own  (which  many  men  before  and  since  have  adopted) 
permitted  him  to  stare  with  a  superior  good  nature  at  the 
open  love-making  around  him.  He  imagined  his  own 
figure,  —  which  was  already  growing  a  little  stout,  —  in 
a  light  gray  jacket  and  duck  trousers,  and  laughed. 
Eliphalet  was  not  burdened  with  illusions  of  that  kind. 
These  heroes  might  have  their  hero-worship.  Life  held 
something  dearer  for  him. 

As  he  was  sauntering  toward  a  deserted  seat  at  the 
foot  of  a  tree,  it  so  chanced  that  he  was  overtaken  by  Mr. 
Cluyme  and  his  daughter  Belle.  Only  that  morning,  this 
gentleman,  in  glancing  through  the  real  estate  column  of 
his  newspaper,  had  fallen  upon  a  deed  of  sale  which  made 
him  wink.  He  reminded  his  wife  that  Mr.  Hopper  had 
not  been  to  supper  of  late.  So  now  Mr.  Cluyme  held  out 
his  hand  with  more  than  common  cordiality.  When  Mr. 
Hopper  took  it,  the  fingers  did  not  close  any  too  tightly 
over  his  own.  But  it  may  be  well  to  remark  that  Mr. 
Hopper  himself  did  not  do  any  squeezing.  He  took  off 


CAMP   JACKSON  267 

his  hat  grudgingly  to  Miss  Belle.  He  had  never  liked  the 
custom. 

" 1  hope  you  will  take  pot  luck  with  us  soon  again,  Mr. 
Hopper,"  said  the  elder  gentleman.  "  We  only  have  plain 
and  simple  things,  but  they  are  wholesome,  sir.  Dainties 
are  poor  things  to  work  on.  I  told  that  to  his  Royal  High 
ness  when  he  was  here  last  fall.  He  was  speaking  to  me 
on  the  merits  of  roast  beef  —  " 

"  It's  a  fine  day,"  said  Mr.  Hopper. 

"  So  it  is,"  Mr.  Cluyme  assented.  Letting  his  gaze 
wander  over  the  camp,  he  added  casually  :  "  I  see  that 
they  have  got  a  few  mortars  and  howitzers  since  yester 
day.  I  suppose  that  is  the  stuff  we  heard  so  much  about, 
which  came  on  the  Swon  marked  'marble.'  They  say 
Jeff  Davis  sent  the  stuff  to  'em  from  the  Government 
arsenal  the  Secesh  captured  at  Baton  Rouge.  They're 
pretty  near  ready  to  move  on  our  arsenal  now." 

Mr.  Hopper  listened  with  composure.  He  was  not 
greatly  interested  in  this  matter  which  had  stirred  the 
city  to  the  quick.  Neither  had  Mr.  Cluyme  spoken  as 
one  who  was  deeply  moved.  Just  then,  as  if  to  spare  the 
pains  of  a  reply,  a  "Jenny  Lind "  passed  them.  Miss 
Belle  recognized  the  carriage  immediately  as  belonging 
to  an  elderly  lady  who  was  well  known  in  St.  Louis. 
Every  day  she  drove  out,  dressed  in  black  bombazine,  and 
heavily  veiled.  But  she  was  blind.  As  the  mother-in-law 
of  the  stalwart  Union  leader  of  the  city,  Miss  Belle's  com 
ment  about  her  appearance  in  Camp  Jackson  was  not  out 
of  place. 

"  Well ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  I'd  like  to  know  what  she's 
doing  here ! " 

Mr.  Hopper's  answer  revealed  a  keenness  which,  in  the 
course  of  a  few  days,  engendered  in  Mr.  Cluyme  as  lusty 
a  respect  as  he  was  capable  of. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Eliphalet;  "but  I  caFlate  she's 
got  stouter." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  Miss  Belle  demanded. 

"  That  Union  principles  must  be  healthy,"  said  he,  and 
laughed. 


268  THE   CRISIS 

Miss  Cluyme  was  prevented  from  following  up  this 
enigma.  The  appearance  of  two  people  on  Davis  Avenue 
drove  the  veiled  lady  from  her  mind.  Eliphalet,  too,  had 
seen  them.  One  was  the  tall  young  Captain  of  Dragoons, 
in  cavalry  boots,  and  the  other  a  young  lady  with  dark 
brown  hair,  in  a  lawn  dress. 

"Just  look  at  them!"  cried  Miss  Belle.  "They  think 
they  are  alone  in  the  garden  of  Eden.  Virginia  didn't 
use  to  care  for  him.  But  since  he's  a  captain,  and  has  got 
a  uniform,  she's  come  round  pretty  quick.  I'm  thankful 
I  never  had  any  silly  notions  about  uniforms." 

She  glanced  at  Eliphalet,  to  find  that  his  eyes  were  fixed 
on  the  approaching  couple. 

"  Clarence  is  handsome,  but  worthless,"  she  continued 
in  her  sprightly  way.  "I  believe  Jinny  will  be  fool 
enough  to  marry  him.  Do  you  think  she's  so  very  pretty, 
Mr.  Hopper?" 

Mr.  Hopper  lied, 

"Neither  do  I,"  Miss  Belle  assented.  And  upon  that, 
greatly  to  the  astonishment  of  Eliphalet,  she  left  him  and 
ran  towards  them.  "  Virginia  !  "  she  cried;  "  Jinny,  I  have 
something  so  interesting  to  tell  you  !  " 

Virginia  turned  impatiently.  The  look  she  bestowed 
upon  Miss  Cluyme  was  not  one  of  welcome,  but  Belle  was 
not  sensitive.  Putting  her  arm  through  Virginia's,  she 
sauntered  off  with  the  pair  toward  the  parade  grounds, 
Clarence  maintaining  now  a  distance  of  three  feet,  and  not 
caring  to  hide  his  annoyance. 

Eliphalet's  eyes  smouldered,  following  the  three  until 
they  were  lost  in  the  crowd.  That  expression  of  Vir 
ginia's  had  reminded  him  of  a  time,  years  gone,  when  she 
had  come  into  the  store  on  her  return  from  Kentucky,  and 
had  ordered  him  to  tell  her  father  of  her  arrival.  He  had 
smarted  then.  And  Eliphalet  was  not  the  sort  to  get  over 
smarts. 

"  A  beautiful  young  lady,"  remarked  Mr.  Cluyme. 
"And  a  deserving  one,  Mr.  Hopper.  Now,  she  is  my 
notion  of  quality.  She  has  wealth,  and  manners,  and 
looks.  And  her  father  is  a  good  man,  Too  bad  he  holds 


CAMP  JACKSON  269 

such  views  on  secession.  I  have  always  thought,  sir,  that 
you  were  singularly  fortunate  in  your  connection  with 
him." 

There  was  a  point  of  light  now  in  each  of  Mr.  Hopper's 
green  eyes.  But  Mr.  Cluyme  continued:  — 

"  What  a  pity,  I  say,  that  he  should  run  the  risk  of  crip 
pling  himself  by  his  opinions.  Times  are  getting  hard." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Hopper. 

"And  southwestern  notes  are  not  worth  the  paper  they 
are  written  on  — 

But  Mr.  Cluyme  has  misjudged  his  man.  If  he  had  come 
to  Eliphalet  for  information  of  Colonel  Carvel's  affairs,  or 
of  any  one  else's  affairs,  he  was  not  likely  to  get  it.  It  is 
not  meet  to  repeat  here  the  long  business  conversation  which 
followed.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  Mr.  Cluyme,  who  was  in 
dry  goods  himself,  was  as  ignorant  'when  he  left  Eliphalet 
as  when  he  met  him.  But  he  had  a  greater  respect  than 
ever  for  the  shrewdness  of  the  business  manager  of  Carvel 
&  Company. 

******* 

That  same  Thursday,  when  the  first  families  of  the  city 
were  whispering  jubilantly  in  each  other's  ears  of  the  safe 
arrival  of  the  artillery  and  stands  of  arms  at  Camp  Jackson, 
something  of  significance  was  happening  within  the  green 
inclosure  of  the  walls  of  the  United  States  arsenal, -far  to 
the  southward. 

The  days  had  become  alike  in  sadness  to  Stephen. 
Richter  gone,  and  the  Judge  often  away  in  mysterious 
conference,  he  was  left  for  hours  at  a  spell  the  sole  tenant 
of  the  office.  Fortunately  there  was  work  of  Richter's  and 
of  Mr.  Whipple's  left  undone  that  kept  him  busy.  This 
Thursday  morning,  however,  he  found  the  Judge  getting 
into  that  best  black  coat  which  he  wore  on  occasions.  His 
manner  had  recently  lost  much  of  its  gruffness. 

"  Stephen,"  said  he,  "  they  are  serving  out  cartridges  and 
uniforms  to  the  regiments  at  the  arsenal.  Would  you  like 
to  go  down  with  me  ?  " 

"  Does  that  mean  Camp  Jackson  ?  "  asked  Stephen,  when 
they  had  reached  the  street. 


270  THE   CRISIS 

"  Captain  Lyon  is  not  the  man  to  sit  still  and  let  the 
Governor  take  the  first  trick,  sir,"  said  the  Judge. 

As  they  got  on  the  Fifth  Street  car,  Stephen's  attention 
was  at  once  attracted  to  a  gentleman  who  sat  in  a  corner, 
with  his  children  about  him.  He  was  lean,  and  he  had  a 
face  of  great  keenness  and  animation.  He  had  no  sooner 
spied  Judge  Whipple  than  he  beckoned  to  him  with  a  kind 
of  military  abruptness. 

"  That  is  Major  William  T.  Sherman,"  said  the  Judge 
to  Stephen.  "He  used  to  be  in  the  army,  and  fought  in 
the  Mexican  War.  He  came  here  two  months  ago  to  be 
the  President  of  this  Fifth  Street  car  line." 

They  crossed  over  to  him,  the  Judge  introducing 
Stephen  to  Major  Sherman,  who  looked  at  him  very  hard, 
and  then  decided  to  bestow  on  him  a  vigorous  nod. 

"  Well,  Whipple,"  he  said,  "  this  nation  is  going  to  the 
devil,  eh?" 

Stephen  could  not  resist  a  smile.  For  it  was  a  bold 
man  who  expressed  radical  opinions  (provided  they  were 
not  Southern  opinions)  in  a  St.  Louis  street  car  early 
in  '61. 

The  Judge  shook  his  head.  "  We  may  pull  out,"  he 
said. 

"  Pull  out !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Sherman.  "  Who's  man 
enough  in  Washington  to  shake  his  fist  in  a  rebel's  face  ? 
Our  leniency  —  our  timidity  —  has  paralyzed  us,  sir." 

By  this  time  those  in  the  car  began  to  manifest  consid 
erable  interest  in  the  conversation.  Major  Sherman  paid 
them  no  attention,  and  the  Judge,  once  launched  in  an 
argument,  forgot  his  surroundings. 

"  I  have  faith  in  Mr.  Lincoln.  He  is  calling  out  volun 
teers." 

"  Seventy-five  thousand  for  three  months ! "  said  the 
Major,  vehemently,  "  a  bucketful  on  a  conflagration  !  I 
tell  you,  Whipple,  we'll  need  all  the  water  we've  got  in 
the  North." 

The  Judge  expressed  his  belief  in  this,  and  also  that 
Mr.  Lincoln  would  draw  all  the  water  before  he  got 
through. 


CAMP  JACKSON  271 

"  Upon  my  soul,"  said  Mr.  Sherman,  "  I'm  disgusted. 
Now's  the  time  to  stop  'em.  The  longer  we  let  'em  rear 
and  kick,  the  harder  to  break  'em.  You  don't  catch  me 
going  back  to  the  army  for  three  months.  If  they  want 
me,  they've  got  to  guarantee  me  three  years.  That's 
more  like  it."  Turning  to  Stephen,  he  added:  "Don't 
YOU  sign  any  three  months'  contract,  young  man." 

Stephen  grew  red.  By  this  time  the  car  was  full,  and 
silent.  No  one  had  offered  to  quarrel  with  the  Major. 
Nor  did  it  seem  likely  that  any  one  would. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  go,  sir." 

"  Why  not?"  demanded  Mr.  Sherman. 

"Because,  sir,"  said  the  Judge,  bluntly,  "his  mother's 
a  widow,  and  they  have  no  money.  He  was  a  lieutenant 
in  one  of  Blair's  companies  before  the  call  came." 

The  Major  looked  at  Stephen,  and  his  expression  changed. 

"  Find  it  pretty  hard?  "  he  asked. 

Stephen's  expression  must  have  satisfied  him,  but  he 
nodded  again,  more  vigorously  than  before. 

"  Just  you  wait,  Mr.  Brice,"  he  said.  "  It  won't  hurt 
you  any." 

Stephen  was  grateful.  But  he  hoped  to  fall  out  of  the 
talk.  Much  to  his  discomfiture,  the  Major  gave  him 
another  of  those  queer  looks.  His  whole  manner,  and 
even  his  appearance,  reminded  Stephen  strangely  of  Cap 
tain  Elijah  Brent. 

"Aren't  you  the  young  man  who  made  the  Union 
speech  in  Mercantile  Library  Hall  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  Judge.     "  He  is." 

At  that  the  Major  put  out  his  hand  impulsively,  and 
gripped  Stephen's. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  said,  "  I  have  yet  to  read  a  more  sen 
sible  speech,  except  some  of  Abraham  Lincoln's.  Brins- 
made  gave  it  to  me  to  read.  Whipple,  that  speech 
reminded  me  of  Lincoln.  It  was  his  style.  Where  did 
you  get  it,  Mr.  Brice  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  heard  Mr.  Lincoln's  debate  with  Judge  Douglas  at 
Freeport,"  said  Stephen,  beginning  to  be  amused. 

The  Major  laughed. 


272  THE  CKISIS 

"I  admire  your  frankness,  sir,"  he  said.  "I  meant 
to  say  that  its  logic  rather  than  its  substance  reminded 
me  of  Lincoln." 

"I  tried  to  learn  what  I  could  from  him,  Major  Sher 
man." 

At  length  the  car  stopped,  and  they  passed  into  the 
Arsenal  grounds.  Drawn  up  in  lines  on  the  green  grass 
were  four  regiments,  all  at  last  in  the  blue  of  their  coun 
try's  service.  Old  soldiers  with  baskets  of  cartridges  were 
stepping  from  file  to  file,  giving  handfuls  to  the  recruits. 
Many  of  these  thrust  them  in  their  pockets,  for  there  were 
not  enough  belts  to  go  around.  The  men  were  standing 
at  ease,  and  as  Stephen  saw  them  laughing  and  joking 
lightheartedly  his  depression  returned.  It  was  driven 
away  again  by  Major  Sherman's  vivacious  comments.  For 
suddenly  Captain  Lyon,  the  man  of  the  hour,  came  into 
view. 

"  Look  at  him  !  "  cried  the  Major,  "  he's  a  man  after  my 
own  heart.  Just  look  at  him  running  about  with  his  hair 
flying  in  the  wind,  and  the  papers  bulging  from  his 
pockets.  Not  dignified,  eh,  Whipple?  But  this  isn't  the 
time  to  be  dignified.  If  there  were  some  like  Lyon  in 
Washington,  our  troops  would  be  halfway  to  New  Orleans 
by  this  time.  Don't  talk  to  me  of  Washington !  Just 
look  at  him  !  " 

The  gallant  Captain  was  a  sight,  indeed,  and  vividly 
described  by  Major  Sherman's  picturesque  words  as  he 
raced  from  regiment  to  regiment,  and  from  company  to 
company,  with  his  sandy  hair  awry,  pointing,  gesticulating, 
commanding.  In  him  Stephen  recognized  the  force  that 
had  swept  aside  stubborn  army  veterans  of  wavering  faith, 
that  snapped  the  tape  with  which  they  had  tied  him. 

Would  he  be  duped  by  the  Governor's  ruse  of  establish 
ing  a  State  Camp  at  this  time  ?  Stephen,  as  he  gazed  at 
him,  was  sure  that  he  would  not.  This  man  could  see 
to  the  bottom,  through  every  specious  argument.  Little 
matters  of  law  and  precedence  did  not  trouble  him.  Nor 
did  he  believe  elderly  men  in  authority  when  they  told 
him  gravely  that  the  state  troops  were  there  for  peace. 


CAMP   JACKSON  273 

After  the  ranks  were  broken,  Major  Sherman  and  the 
Judge  went  to  talk  to  Captain  Lyon  and  the  Union  Leader, 
who  was  now  a  Colonel  of  one  of  the  Volunteer  regiments. 
Stephen  sought  Richter,  who  told  him  that  'the  regiments 
were  to  assemble  the  morning  of  the  morrow,  prepared  to 
march. 

"  To  Camp  Jackson  ?  '*  asked  Stephen. 

Richter  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  We  are  not  consulted,  my  friend,"  he  said.  "  Will 
you  come  into  my  quarters  and  have  a  bottle  of  beer  with 
Tiefel?" 

Stephen  went.  It  was  not  their  fault  that  his  sense  of 
their  comradeship  was  gone.  To  him  it  was  as  if  the  ties 
that  had  bound  him  to  them  were  asunder,  and  he  was 
become  an  outcast. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

• 

THE    STONE   THAT    IS    REJECTED 

THAT  Friday  morning  Stephen  awoke  betimes  with  a  sense 
that  something  was  to  happen.  For  a  few  moments  he  lay 
still  in  the  half  comprehension  which  comes  after  sleep, 
when  suddenly  he  remembered  yesterday's  incidents  at  the 
Arsenal,  and  leaped  out  of  bed. 

"  I  think  that  Lyon  is  going  to  attack  Camp  Jackson 
to-day,"  he  said  to  his  mother  after  breakfast,  when  Hester 
had  left  the  room. 

Mrs.  Brice  dropped  her  knitting  in  her  lap. 

"  Why,  Stephen  ?  " 

"  I  went  down  to  the  Arsenal  with  the  Judge  yesterday 
and  saw  them  finishing  the  equipment  of  the  new  regiments. 
Something  was  in  the  wind.  Any  one  could  see  that  from 
the  way  Lyon  was  flying  about.  I  think  he  must  have 
proof  that  the  Camp  Jackson  people  have  received  supplies 
from  the  South." 

Mrs.  Brice  looked  fixedly  at  her  son,  and  then  smiled  in 
spite  of  the  apprehension  she  felt. 

"  Is  that  why  you  were  working  over  that  map  of  the 
city  last  night  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  was  trying  to  see  how  Lyon  would  dispose  his  troops. 
I  meant  to  tell  you  about  a  gentleman  we  met  in  the  street 
car,  a  Major  Sherman  who  used  to  be  in  the  army.  Mr. 
Brinsmade  knows  him,  and  Judge  Whipple,  and  many 
other  prominent  men  here.  He  came  to  St.  Louis  some 
months  ago  to  take  the  position  of  president  of  the  Fifth 
Street  Line.  He  is  the  keenest,  the  most  original  man  I 
have  ever  met.  As  long  as  I  live  I  shall  never  forget  his 
description  of  Lyon." 

"Is  the  Major  going  back  into  the  army?"  said  Mrs. 

274 


THE   STOKE   THAT   IS   REJECTED  275 

Brice.  Stephen  did  not  remark  the  little  falter  in  her 
voice.  He  laughed  over  the  recollection  of  the  conversa 
tion  in  the  street  car. 

"  Not  unless  matters  in  Washington  change  to  suit  him," 
he  said.  "  He  thinks  that  things  have  been  very  badly 
managed,  and  does  not  scruple  to  say  so  anywhere.  I 
could  not  have  believed  it  possible  that  two  men  could 
have  talked  in  public  as  he  and  Judge  W hippie  did  yester 
day  and  not  be  shot  down.  I  thought  that  it  was  as  much 
as  a  man's  life  is  worth  to  mention  allegiance  to  the  Union 
here  in  a  crowd.  And  the  way  Mr.  Sherman  pitched  into 
the  4  Rebels'  in  that  car  full  of  people  was  enough  to  make 
your  hair  stand  on  end." 

"  He  must  be  a  bold  man,"  murmured  Mrs.  Brice. 
"  Does  he  think  that  the  —  the  Rebellion  can  be  put 
down?" 

"  Not  with  seventy-five  thousand  men,  nor  with  ten  times 
that  number." 

Mrs.  Brice  sighed,  and  furtively  wiped  her  eyes  with 
her  handkerchief. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  shall  see  great  misery,  Stephen,"  she 
said. 

He  was  silent.  From  that  peaceful  little  room  war 
and  its  horrors  seemed  very  far  away.  The  morning  sun 
poured  in  through  the  south  windows  and  was  scattered 
by  the  silver  on  the  sideboard.  From  above,  on  the  wall, 
Colonel  Wilton  Brice  gazed  soberly  down.  Stephen's  eyes 
lighted  on  the  portrait,  and  his  thoughts  flew  back  to  the 
boyhood  days  when  he  used  to  ply  his  father  with  ques 
tions  about  it.  Then  the  picture  had  suggested  only  the 
glory  and  honor  which  illumines  the  page  of  history. 
Something  worthy  to  look  back  upon,  to  keep  one's  head 
high.  The  hatred  and  the  suffering  and  the  tears,  the 
heartrending,  tearing  apart  for  all  time  of  loving  ones  who 
have  grown  together,  —  these  were  not  upon  that  canvas. 
Will  war  ever  be  painted  with  a  wart  ? 

The  sound  of  feet  was  heard  on  the  pavement.  Stephen 
rose,  glancing  at  his  mother.  Her  face  was  still  upon  her 
knitting. 


276  THE   CRISIS 

"  I  am  going  to  the  Arsenal,"  he  said.  "  I  must  see  what 
is  happening." 

To  her,  as  has  been  said,  was  given  wisdom  beyond  most 
women.  She  did  not  try  to  prevent  him  as  he  kissed  her 
good-by.  But  when  the  door  had  shut  behind  him,  a  little 
cry  escaped  her,  and  she  ran  to  the  window  to  strain  her 
eyes  after  him  until  he  had  turned  the  corner  below. 

His  steps  led  him  irresistibly  past  the  house  of  the  strange 
flag,  ominously  quiet  at  that  early  hour.  At  sight  of  it 
anger  made  him  hot  again.  The  car  for  South  St.  Louis 
stood  at  the  end  of  the  line,  fast  filling  with  curious  people 
who  had  read  in  their  papers  that  morning  of  the  equip 
ment  of  the  new  troops.  There  was  little  talk  among 
them,  and  that  little  guarded. 

It  was  a  May  morning  to  rouse  a  sluggard ;  the  night 
air  tingled  into  life  at  the  touch  of  the  sunshine,  the  trees 
in  the  flitting  glory  of  their  first  green.  Stephen  found 
the  shaded  street  in  front  of  the  Arsenal  already  filled  with 
an  expectant  crowd.  Sharp  commands  broke  the  silence, 
and  he  saw  the  blue  regiments  forming  on  the  lawn  inside 
the  wall.  Truly,  events  were  in  the  air,  — great  events  in 
which  he  had  no  part. 

As  he  stood  leaning  against  a  tree-box  by  the  curb, 
dragged  down  once  more  by  that  dreaded  feeling  of  de 
tachment,  he  heard  familiar  voices  close  beside  him. 
Leaning  forward,  he  saw  Eliphalet  Hopper  and  Mr. 
Cluyme.  It  was  Mr.  Cluyme  who  was  speaking. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hopper,"  he  said,  "in  spite  of  what  you  say, 
I  expect  you  are  just  as  eager  as  I  am  to  see  what  is  going 
on.  You've  taken  an  early  start  this  morning  for  sight 
seeing." 

Eiiphalet's  equanimity  was  far  from  shaken. 

"  I  don't  cal'late  to  take  a  great  deal  of  stock  in  the  mili 
tary,"  he  answered.  "  But  business  is  business.  And  a 
man  must  keep  an  eye  on  what  is  moving." 

Mr.  Cluyme  ran  his  hand  through  his  chop  whiskers, 
and  lowered  his  voice. 

"  You're  right,  Hopper,"  he  assented.  "  And  if  this  city 
is  going  to  be  Union,  we  ought  to  know  it  right  away." 


THE   STONE   THAT   IS   REJECTED  277 

Stephen,  listening  with  growing  indignation  to  this  talk, 
was  unaware  of  a  man  who  stood  on  the  other  side  of  the 
tree,  and  who  now  came  forward  before  Mr.  Hopper.  He 
presented  a  somewhat  uncompromising  front.  Mr.  Cluyme 
instantly  melted  away. 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  stranger,  quietly,  "  I  think  we 
have  met  before,  when  your  actions  were  not  greatly  to 
your  credit.  I  do  not  forget  a  face,  even  when  I  see  it  in 
the  dark.  Now  I  hear  you  utter  words  which  are  a  dis 
grace  to  a  citizen  of  the  United  States.  I  have  some 
respect  for  a  rebel.  I  have  none  for  you,  sir." 

As  soon  as  Stephen  recovered  from  the  shock  of  his  sur 
prise,  he  saw  that  Eliphalet  had  changed  countenance. 
The  manner  of  an  important  man  of  affairs,  which  he  had 
so  assiduously  cultivated,  fell  away  from  him.  He  took 
a  step  backward,  and  his  eyes  made  an  ugly  shift.  Stephen 
rejoiced  to  see  the  stranger  turn  his  back  on  the  manager 
of  Carvel  &  Company  before  that  dignitary  had  time  to 
depart,  and  stand  unconcernedly  there  as  if  nothing  had 
occurred. 

Then  Stephen  stared  at  him. 

He  was  not  a  man  you  would  look  at  twice,  ordinarily. 
He  was  smoking  a  great  El  Sol  cigar.  He  wore  clothes 
that  were  anything  but  new,  a  slouch  hat,  and  coarse 
grained,  square-toed  boots.  His  trousers  were  creased  at 
the  knees.  His  head  fell  forward  a  little  from  his  square 
shoulders,  and  leaned  a  bit  to  one  side,  as  if  meditatively. 
He  had  a  light  brown  beard  that  was  reddish  in  the  sun, 
and  he  was  rather  short  than  otherwise. 

This  was  all  that  Stephen  saw.  And  yet  the  very  plain 
ness  of  the  man's  appearance  only  added  to  his  curiosity. 
Who  was  this  stranger?  His  words,  his  action,  too,  had 
been  remarkable.  The  art  of  administering  a  rebuke  like 
that  was  not  given  to  many  men.  It  was  perfectly  quiet, 
perfectly  final.  And  then,  when  it  was  over,  he  had  turned 
his  back  and  dismissed  it. 

Next  Stephen  began  to  wonder  what  he  could  know 
about  Hopper.  Stephen  had  suspected  Eliphalet  of  sub 
ordinating  principles  to  business  gain,  and  hence  the  con- 


278  THE   CRISIS 

versation  with  Mr.  Cluyme  had  given  him  no  shock  in  the 
way  of  a  revelation.  But  if  Hopper  were  a  rogue,  ought 
not  Colonel  Carvel  to  hear  it?  Ought  not  he,  Stephen 
Brice,  to  ask  this  man  with  the  cigar  what  he  knew,  and 
tell  Judge  Whipple?  The  sudden  rattle  of  drums  gave 
him  a  start,  and  cruelly  reminded  him  of  the  gulf  of  preju 
dice  and  hatred  fast  widening  between  the  friends. 

All  this  time  the  stranger  stood  impassively  chewing 
his  cigar,  his  hand  against  the  tree-box.  A  regiment  in 
column  came  out  of  the  Arsenal  gate,  the  Union  leader, 
in  his  colonel's  uniform,  on  horseback  at  its  head.  He 
pulled  up  in  the  street  opposite  to  Stephen,  and  sat  in  his 
saddle,  chatting  with  other  officers  around  him. 

Then  the  stranger  stepped  across  the  limestone  gutter 
and  walked  up  to  the  Colonel's  horse.  He  was  still 
smoking.  This  move,  too,  was  surprising  enough.  It 
argued  even  more  assurance.  Stephen  listened  intently. 

"  Colonel  Blair,  my  name  is  Grant,"  he  said  briefly. 

The  Colonel  faced  quickly  about,  and  held  out  his 
gloved  hand  cordially. 

"  Captain  Ulysses  Grant,"  said  he,  "  of  the  old  army  ?  " 

Mr.  Grant  nodded. 

"  I  wanted  to  wish  you  luck,"  he  said. 

"Thank  you,  Grant,"  answered  the  Colonel.  "But 
you?  Where  are  you  living  now?" 

"I  moved  to  Illinois  after  I  left  here,"  replied  Mr. 
Grant,  as  quietly  as  before,  "  and  have  been  in  Galena,  in 
the  leather  business  there.  I  went  down  to  Springfield 
with  the  company  they  organized  in  Galena,  to  be  of  any 
help  I  could.  They  made  me  a  clerk  in  the  adjutant  gen 
eral's  office  of  the  state.  I  ruled  blanks,  and  made  out 
forms  for  a  while."  He  paused,  as  if  to  let  the  humble  char 
acter -of  this  position  sink  into  the  Colonel's  comprehension. 
"Then  they  found  out  that  I'd  been  quartermaster  and 
commissary,  and  knew  something  about  military  orders. 
Now  I'm  a  state  mustering  officer.  I  came  down  to  Belle 
ville  to  muster  in  a  regiment,  which  wasn't  ready.  And 
so  I  ran  over  here  to  see  what  you  fellows  were  doing." 

If  this  humble  account  had  been  delivered  volubly,  and 


THE   STONE   THAT   IS  REJECTED  279 

in  another  tone,  it  is  probable  that  the  citizen-colonel 
would  not  have  listened,  since  the  events  of  that  day  were 
to  crown  his  work  of  a  winter.  But  Mr.  Grant  possessed 
a  manner  of  holding  attention.  It  was  very  evident,  how 
ever,  that  Colonel  Blair  had  other  things  to  think  of. 
Nevertheless  he  said  kindly:  — 

"  Aren't  you  going  in,  Grant  ?  " 

"  I  can't  afford  to  go  in  as  a  captain  of  volunteers,"  was 
the  calm  reply.  "  I  served  nine  years  in  the  regular  army, 
and  I  think  I  can  command  a  regiment." 

The  Colonel,  whose  attention  was  called  away  at  that 
moment,  did  not  reply.  Mr.  Grant  moved  off  up  the 
street.  Some  of  the  younger  officers  who  were  there, 
laughed  as  they  followed  his  retreating  figure. 

"  Command  a  regiment !  "  cried  one,  a  lieutenant  whom 
Stephen  recognized  as  having  been  a  book-keeper  at 
Edwards,  James,  &  Doddington's,  and  whose  stiff  blue 
uniform  coat  creased  awkwardly.  "  I  guess  I'm  about  as 
fit  to  command  a  regiment  as  Grant  is." 

"  That  man's  forty  years  old,  if  he's  a  day,"  put  in 
another.  "  I  remember  when  he  came  here  to  St.  Louis 
in  '54,  played  out.  He'd  resigned  from  the  army  on 
the  Pacific  Coast.  He  put  up  a  log  cabin  down  on  the 
Gravois  Road,  and  there  he  lived  in  the  hardest  luck  of 
any  man  I  ever  saw  until  last  year.  You  remember  him, 
Joe." 

"  Yep,"  said  Joe.  "  I  spotted  him  by  the  El  Sol  cigar. 
He  used  to  bring  a  load  of  wood  to  the  city  once  in 
a  while,  and  then  he'd  go  over  to  the  Planters'  House,  or 
somewhere  else,  and  smoke  one  of  these  long  fellows,  and 
sit  against  the  wall  as  silent  as  a  wooden  Indian.  After 
that  he  came  up  to  the  city  without  his  family  and  went 
into  real  estate  one  winter.  But  he  didn't  make  it  go. 
Curious,  it  is  just  a  year  ago  this  month  that  he  went  over 
to  Illinois.  He's  an  honest  fellow,  and  hard  working 
enough,  but  he  don't  know  how.  He's  just  a  dead  failure." 

"Command  a  regiment!"  laughed  the  first,  again,  as  if 
this  in  particular  had  struck  his  sense  of  humor.  "  I  guess 
he  won't  get  a  regiment  in  a  hurry.  There's  lots  of  those 


280  THE   CRISIS 

military  carpet-baggers  hanging  around  for  good  jobs 
now." 

"  He  might  fool  you  fellows  yet,"  said  the  one  called 
Joe,  though  his  tone  was  not  one  of  conviction.  "I  under 
stand  he  had  a  first-rate  record  in  the  Mexican  War." 

Just  then  an  aide  rode  up,  and  the  Colonel  gave  a  sharp 
command  which  put  an  end  to  this  desultory  talk.  As 
the  First  Regiment  took  up  the  march,  the  words  "  Camp 
Jackson"  ran  from  mouth  to  mouth  on  the  sidewalks. 
Catching  fire,  Stephen  ran  with  the  crowd,  and  leaping  on 
a  passing  street  car,  was  borne  cityward  with  the  drums 
of  the  coming  hosts  beating  in  his  ears. 

In  the  city,  shutters  were  going  up  on  the  stores.  The 
streets  were  filled  with  restless  citizens  seeking  news,  and 
drays  were  halted  here  and  there  on  the  corners,  the  white 
eyes  and  frenzied  calls  of  the  negro  drivers  betraying  their 
excitement.  While  Stephen  related  to  his  .mother  the 
events  of  the  morning,  Hester  burned  the  dinner.  It  lay, 
still  untouched,  on  the  table  when  the  throbbing  of  drums 
sent  them  to  the  front  steps.  Sigel's  regiment  had  swung 
into  the  street,  drawing  in  its  wake  a  seething  crowd. 

Three  persons  came  out  of  the  big  house  next  door. 
One  was  Anne  Brinsmade ;  and  there  was  her  father,  his 
white  hairs  uncovered.  The  third  was  Jack.  His  sister 
was  clinging  to  him  appealingly,  and  he  struggling  in  her 
grasp.  Out  of  his  coat  pocket  hung  the  curved  butt  of  a 
big  pepper-box  revolver. 

"  Let  me  go,  Anne  ! "  he  cried.  "  Do  you  think  I  can 
stay  here  while  my  people  are  shot  down  by  a  lot  of  damned 
Dutchman?" 

"  John,"  said  Mr.  Brinsmade,  sternly,  "  I  cannot  let  you 
join  a  mob.  I  cannot  let  you  shoot  at  men  who  carry  the 
Union  flag." 

"  You  cannot  prevent  me,  sir,"  shouted  the  young  man, 
in  a  frenzy.  "  When  foreigners  take  our  flag  for  their 
own,  it  is  time  for  us  to  shoot  them  down." 

Wrenching  himself  free,  he  ran  down  the  steps  and  up 
the  street  ahead  of  the  regiment.  Then  the  soldiers  and 
the  noisy  crowd  were  upon  them ;  and  while  these  were 


THE   STONE   THAT   IS   REJECTED  281 

passing,  the  two  stood  there  as  in  a  dream.  After  that  a 
silence  fell  upon  the  street,  and  Mr.  Brinsmade  turned  and 
went  back  into  the  house,  his  head  bowed  as  in  prayer. 
Stephen  and  his  mother  drew  back,  but  Anne  saw  them. 

"  He  is  a  rebel,"  she  faltered.  "  It  will  break  my  father's 
heart." 

She  looked  at  Stephen  appealingly,  unashamed  of  the 
tears  in  her  eyes.  Then  she,  too,  went  in. 

"  I  cannot  stay  here,  mother,"  he  said. 

As  he  slammed  the  gate,  Anne  ran  down  the  steps,  call 
ing  his  name.  He  paused,  and  she  caught  his  sleeve. 

"  I  knew  you  would  go,"  she  said.  "  I  knew  you  would 
go.  Oh,  Stephen,  you  have  a  cool  head.  Try  to  keep  Jack 
—  out  of  mischief." 

He  left  her  standing  on  the  pavement.  But  when  he 
reached  the  corner  and  looked  back  he  saw  that  she  had 
gone  in  at  his  own  little  gate  to  meet  his  mother.  Then 
he  walked  rapidly  westward.  Now  and  again  he  was 
stopped  by  feverish  questions,  but  at  length  he  reached 
the  top  of  the  second  ridge  from  the  river,  along  which 
crowded  Eighteenth  Street  now  runs.  There  stood  the 
new  double  mansion  Mr.  Spencer  Catherwood  had  built 
two  years  before  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  with  the 
wall  at  the  side,  and  the  brick  stable  and  stable  yard.  As 
Stephen  approached  it,  the  thought  came  to  him  how  little 
this  world's  goods  avail  in  times  of  trouble.  One  of  the 
big  Catherwood  boys  was  in  the  blue  marching  regiments 
that  day,  and  had  been  told  by  his  father  never  again  to 
darken  his  doors.  Another  was  in  Clarence  Colfax's  com 
pany  of  dragoons,  and  still  another  had  fled  southward  the 
night  after  Sumter. 

Stephen  stopped  at  the  crest  of  the  hill,  in  the  white 
dust  of  the  new-turned  street,  to  gaze  westward.  Clouds 
were  gathering  in  the  sky,  but  the  sun  still  shone  brightly. 
Halfway  up  the  rise  two  blue  lines  had  crawled,  followed  by 
black  splotches,  and  at  the  southwest  was  the  glint  of  the 
sun  on  rifle  barrels.  Directed  by  a  genius  in  the  art  of 
war,  the  regiments  were  closing  about  Camp  Jackson. 

As  he  stood  there  meditating,  and  paying  no  attention 


282  THE   CRISIS 

to  those  who  hurried  past,  a  few  familiar  notes  were  struck 
on  a  piano.  They  came  through  the  wide-shuttered  win 
dow  above  his  head.  Then  a  girl's  voice  rose  above  the 
notes,  in  tones  that  were  exultant :  — 

"  Away  down  South  in  de  fields  of  cotton, 
Cinnamon  seed  arid  sandy  bottom, 

Look  away,  look  away, 

Look  away,  look  away. 
Den  I  wish  I  was  in  Dixie's  Land, 

Oh,  oh  !  oh,  oh  ! 

In  Dixie's  Land  I'll  take  my  stand, 
And  live  and  die  in  Dixie's  Land. 

Away,  away,  away. 

Away  down  South  in  Dixie." 

The  song  ceased  amid  peals  of  girlish  laughter.  Stephen 
was  rooted  to  the  spot. 

"  Jinny  !  Jinny  Carvel,  how  dare  you  !  "  came  through 
the  shutters.  "  We  shall  have  a  whole  regiment  of  Hes 
sians  in  here." 

Old  Uncle  Ben,  the  Catherwoods'  coachman,  came  out 
of  the  stable  yard.  The  whites  of  his  eyes  were  rolling, 
half  in  amusement,  half  in  terror.  Seeing  Stephen  stand 
ing  there,  he  exclaimed :  — 

"  Mistah  Brice,  if  de  Dutch  take  Camp  Jackson,  is  we 
niggers  gwinter  be  free  ?  " 

Stephen  did  not  answer,  for  the  piano  had  started  again. 

"  If  ever  I  consent  to  be  married,  — 
And  who  could  refuse  a  good  mate  ?  — 
The  man  whom  I  give  my  hand  to, 
Must  believe  in  the  Rights  of  the  State." 

More  laughter.  Then  the  blinds  were  flung  aside,  and  a 
young  lady  in  a  dress  of  white  trimmed  with  crimson  stood 
in  the  window,  smiling.  Suddenly  she  perceived  Stephen 
in  the  road.  Her  smile  faded.  For  an  instant  she  stared 
at  him,  and  then  turned  to  the  girls  crowding  behind  her. 
What  she  said,  he  did  not  wait  to  hear.  He  was  striding 
down  the  hill. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

THE    TENTH    OF    MAY 

WOULD  the  sons  of  the  first  families  surrender ! 
"  Never !  "  cried  a  young  lady  who  sat  behind  the  blinds 
in  Mrs.  Catherwood's  parlor.  It  seemed  to  her  when  she 
stopped  to  listen  for  the  first  guns  of  the  coming  battle 
that  the  tumult  in  her  heart  would  drown  their  roar. 

"  But,  Jinny,"  ventured  that  Miss  Puss  Russell  who  never 
feared  to  speak  her  mind,  "  it  would  be  folly  for  them  to 
fight.  The  Dutch  and  Yankees  outnumber  them  ten  to  one, 
and  they  haven't  any  powder  and  bullets." 

"  And  Camp  Jackson  is  down  in  a  hollow,"  said  Maude 
Catherwood,  dejectedly.  And  yet  hopefully,  too,  for  at 
the  thought  of  bloodshed  she  was  near  to  fainting. 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Virginia,  passionately,  "  I  believe  you 
want  them  to  surrender.  I  should  rather  see  Clarence  dead 
than  giving  his  sword  to  a  Yankee." 

At  that  the  other  two  were  silent  again,  and  sat  on  through 
an  endless  afternoon  of  uncertainty  and  hope  and  dread  in 
the  darkened  room.  Now  and  anon  Mr.  Catherwood's 
heavy  step  was  heard  as  he  paced  the  hall.  From  time  to 
time  they  glanced  at  Virginia,  as  if  to  fathom  her  thought. 
She  and  Puss  Russell  had  come  that  day  to  dine  with 
Maude.  Mr.  Catherwood's  Ben,  reeking  of  the  stable, 
had  brought  the  rumor  of  the  marching  on  the  camp  into 
the  dining-room,  and  close  upon  the  heels  of  this  the  rum 
ble  of  the  drums  and  the  passing  of  Sigel's  regiment.  It 
was  Virginia  who  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  slam  the 
blinds  in  the  faces  of  the  troops,  and  the  crowd  had  cheered 
her.  It  was  Virginia  who  flew  to  the  piano  to  play  Dixie 
ere  they  could  get  by,  to  the  awe  and  admiration  of  the 
girls  and  the  delight  of  Mr.  Catherwood,  who  applauded 

283 


284  THE   CRISIS 

her  spirit  despite  the  trouble  which  weighed  upon  him. 
Once  more  the  crowd  had  cheered,  —  and  hesitated.  But 
the  Dutch  regiment  slouched  on,  impassive,  and  the  people 
followed. 

Virginia  remained  at  the  piano,  her  mood  exalted,  patri 
otism,  uplifted  in  spirit  by  that  grand  song.  At  first  she 
had  played  it  with  all  her  might.  Then  she  sang  it.  She 
laughed  in  very  scorn  of  the  booby  soldiers  she  had  seen. 
A  million  of  these,  with  all  the  firearms  in  the  world,  could 
not  prevail  against  the  flower  of  the  South.  Then  she  had 
begun  whimsically  to  sing  a  verse  of  a  song  she  had  heard 
the  week  before,  and  suddenly  her  exaltation  was  fled,  and 
her  fingers  left  the  keys.  Gaining  the  window,  trembling, 
half-expectant,  she  flung  open  a  blind.  The  troops,  the 
people,  were  gone,  and  there  alone  in  the  road  stood  — 
Stephen  Brice.  The  others  close  behind  her  saw  him, 
too,  and  Puss  cried  out  in  her  surprise.  The  impression, 
when  the  room  was  dark  once  more,  was  of  sternness  and 
sadness,  —  and  of  strength.  Effaced  was  the  picture  of 
the  plodding  recruits  with  their  coarse  and  ill-fitting  uni 
forms  of  blue. 

Virginia  shut  the  blinds.  Not  a  word  escaped  her,  nor 
could  they  tell  why  they  did  not  dare  to  question  her 
then.  An  hour  passed,  perhaps  two,  before  the  shrill  voice 
of  a  boy  was  heard  in  the  street  below :  — 

"  Camp  Jackson  has  surrendered !  " 

They  heard  the  patter  of  his  bare  feet  on  the  pavement, 
and  the  cry  repeated  :  — 

"  Camp  Jackson  has  surrendered  !  " 

And  so  the  war  began  for  Virginia.  Bitter  before,  now 
was  she  on  fire.  Close  her  lips  as  tightly  as  she  might, 
the  tears  forced  themselves  to  her  eyes.  The  ignominy 
of  it! 

How  hard  it  is  for  us  of  this  age  to  understand  that 
feeling. 

"  I  do  not  believe  it !  "  she  cried.  "  I  cannot  believe 
it!" 

The  girls  gathered  around  her,  pale  and  frightened  and 
anxious.  Suddenly  courage  returned  to  her,  the  courage 


THE   TENTH   OF   MAY  285 

which  made  Spartans  of  Southern  women.  She  ran  to  the 
front  door.  Mr.  Catherwood  was  on  the  sidewalk,  talking 
to  a  breathless  man.  That  man  was  Mr.  Barbo,  Colonel 
Carvel's  book-keeper. 

"  Yes,"  he  was  saying,  "  they  —  they  surrendered.  There 
was  nothing  else  for  them  to  do.  They  were  surrounded 
and  overpowered." 

Mr.  Catherwood  uttered  an  oath.  But  it  did  not  shock 
Virginia.  -••* 

"  And  not  a  shot  fired?"  he  said. 

"And  not  a  shot  fired?"  Virginia  repeated,  mechanically. 

Both  men  turned.     Mr.  Barbo  took  off  his  hat. 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  Oh,  how  could  they  !  "  exclaimed  Virginia. 

Her  words  seemed  to  arouse  Mr.  Catherwood  from  a  kind 
of  stupor.  He  turned,  and  took  her  hand. 

"  Virginia,  we  shall  make  them  smart  for  this  yet,  My 
God !  "  he  cried,  "  what  have  I  done  that  my  son  should 
be  a  traitor,  in  arms  against  his  own  brother  fighting  for 
his  people  ?  To  think  that  a  Catherwood  should  be  with 
the  Yankees  !  You,  Ben,"  he  shouted,  suddenly  perceiving 
an  object  for  his  anger.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  coming 
out  of  the  yard?  By  G — d,  I'll  have  you  whipped.  I'll 
show  you  niggers  whether  you're  to  be  free  or  not." 

And  Mr.  Catherwood  was  a  good  man,  who  treated  his 
servants  well.  Suddenly  he  dropped  Virginia's  hand  and 
ran  westward  down  the  hill.  Well  that  she  could  not  see 
beyond  the  second  rise  ! 

Let  us  go  there — to  the  camp.  Let  us  stand  on  the 
little  mound  at  the  northeast  of  it,  on  the  Olive  Street 
Road,  whence  Captain  Lyon's  artillery  commands  it.  What 
a  change  from  yesterday  !  Davis  Avenue  is  no  longer  a 
fashionable  promenade,  flashing  with  bright  dresses.  Those 
quiet  men  in  blue,  who  are  standing  beside  the  arms  of  the 
state  troops,  stacked  and  surrendered,  are  United  States 
regulars.  They  have  been  in  Kansas,  and  are  used  to  scenes 
of  this  sort. 

The  five  Hessian  regiments  have  surrounded  the  camp. 
Each  commander  has  obeyed  the  master  mind  of  his  chief, 


286  THE   CRISIS 

who  has  calculated  the  time  of  marching  with  precision. 
Here,  at  the  western  gate,  Colonel  Blair's  regiment  is  in 
open  order.  See  the  prisoners  taking  their  places  between 
the  ranks,  some  smiling,  as  if  to  say  all  is  not  over  yet ; 
some  with  heads  hung  down,  in  sulky  shame.  Still  others, 
who  are  true  to  the  Union,  openly  relieved.  But  who  is 
this  officer  breaking  his  sword  to  bits  against  the  fence, 
rather  than  surrender  it  to  a  Yankee  ?  Listen  to  the  crowd 
as  they  cheer  him.  Listen  to  the  epithets  and  vile  names 
which  they  hurl  at  the  stolid  blue  line  of  the  victors. 
"  Mudsills  !  "  "  Negro  Worshippers  !  " 

Yes,  the  crowd  is  there,  seething  with  conflicting  pas 
sions.  Men  with  brows  bent  and  fists  clenched,  yelling 
excitedly.  Others  pushing,  and  eager  to  see, — there  in 
curiosity  only.  And,  alas  !  women  and  children  by  the 
score,  as  if  what  they  looked  upon  were  not  war,  but  a 
parade,  a  spectacle.  As  the  gray  uniforms  file  out  of  the 
gate,  the  crowd  has  become  a  mob,  now  flowing  back  into 
the  fields  on  each  side  of  the  road,  now  pressing  forward 
vindictively  until  stopped  by  the  sergeants  and  corporals. 
Listen  to  them  calling  to  sons,  and  brothers,  and  husbands 
in  gray !  See,  there  is  a  woman  who  spits  in  a  soldier's 
face ! 

Throughout  it  all,  the  officers  sit  their  horses,  unmoved. 
A  man  on  the  bank  above  draws  a  pistol  and  aims  at  a 
captain.  A  German  private  steps  from  the  ranks,  forget 
ful  of  discipline,  and  points  at  the  man,  who  is  cursing  the 
captain's  name.  The  captain,  imperturbable,  orders  his  man 
back  to  his  place.  And  the  man  does  not  shoot  —  yet. 

Now  are  the  prisoners  of  that  regiment  all  in  place 
between  the  two  files  of  it.  A  band  (one  of  those  which 
played  lightsome  music  on  the  birthday  of  the  camp)  is 
inarched  around  to  the  head  of  the  column.  The  regi 
ment  with  its  freight  moves  on  to  make  place  for  a  bat 
talion  of  regulars,  amid  imprecations  and  cries  of  "  Hurrah 
for  Jeff  Davis!"  and  "Damn  the  Dutch!"  "Kill  the 
Hessians !  " 

Stephen  Brice  stood  among  the  people  in  Lindell's 
Grove,  looking  up  at  the  troops  on  the  road,  which  was 


THE   TENTH   OF   MAY  287 

on  an  embankment.  Through  the  rows  of  faces  he  had 
searched  in  vain  for  one.  His  motive  he  did  not  attempt 
to  fathom  —  in  truth,  he  was  not  conscious  at  the  time 
of  any  motive.  He  heard  the  name  shouted  at  the  gate. 

"  Here  they  are, — the  dragoons  !  Three  cheers  for  Col- 
fax  !  Down  with  the  Yankees  !  " 

A  storm  of  cheers  and  hisses  followed.  Dismounted,  at 
the  head  of  his  small  following,  the  young  Captain  walked 
erect.  He  did  not  seem  to  hear  the  cheers.  His  face  was 
set,  and  he  held  his  gloved  hand  over  the  place  where  his 
sword  had  been,  as  if  over  a  wound.  On  his  features,  in 
his  attitude,  was  stamped  the  undying  determination  of 
the  South.  How  those  thoroughbreds  of  the  Cavaliers 
showed  it !  Pain  they  took  lightly.  The  fire  of  humilia 
tion  burned,  but  could  not  destroy  their  indomitable  spirit. 
They  were  the  first  of  their  people  in  the  field,  and  the 
last  to  leave  it.  Historians  may  say  that  the  classes  of 
the  South  caused  the  war;  they  cannot  say  that  they 
did  not  take  upon  themselves  the  greatest  burden  of  the 
suffering. 

Twice  that  day  was  the  future  revealed  to  Stephen. 
Once  as  he  stood  on  the  hill-crest,  when  he  had  seen  a  girl 
in  crimson  and  white  in  a  window,  —  in  her  face.  And 
now  again  he  read  it  in  the  face  of  her  cousin.  It  was  as 
if  he  had  seen  unrolled  the  years  of  suffering  that  were  to 
come. 

In  that  moment  of  deep  bitterness  his  reason  wavered. 
What  if  the  South  should  win?  Surely  there  was  no 
such  feeling  in  the  North  as  these  people  betrayed.  That 
most  dangerous  of  gifts,  the  seeing  of  two  sides  of  a  quar 
rel,  had  been  given  him.  He  saw  the  Southern  view. 
He  sympathized  with  the  Southern  people.  They  had 
befriended  him  in  his  poverty.  Why  had  he  not  been 
born,  like  Clarence  Colfax,  the  owner  of  a  large  planta 
tion,  the  believer  in  the  divine  right  of  his  race  to  rule? 
Then  this  girl  who  haunted  his  thoughts !  Would  that 
his  path  had  been  as  straight,  his  duty  as  easy,  as  that  of 
the  handsome  young  Captain  ! 

Presently  these  thoughts  were  distracted  by  the  sight 


288  THE   CRISIS 

of  a  back  strangely  familiar.  The  back  belonged  to  a 
gentleman  who  was  energetically  climbing  the  embank 
ment  in  front  of  him,  on  the  top  of  which  Major  Saxton, 
a  regular  army  officer,  sat  his  horse.  The  gentleman  was 
pulling  a  small  boy  after  him  by  one  hand,  and  held  a 
newspaper  tightly  rolled  in  the  other.  Stephen  smiled 
to  himself  when  it  came  over  him  that  this  gentleman  was 
none  other  than  that  Mr.  William  T.  Sherman  he  had  met 
in  the  street  car  the  day  before.  Somehow  Stephen  was 
fascinated  by  the  decision  and  energy  of  Mr.  Sherman's 
slightest  movements.  He  gave  Major  Saxton  a  salute, 
quick  and  genial.  Then,  almost  with  one  motion  he  un 
rolled  the  newspaper,  pointed  to  a  paragraph,  and  handed 
it  to  the  officer.  Major  Saxton  was  still  reading  when 
a  drunken  ruffian  clambered  up  the  bank  behind  them 
and  attempted  to  pass  through  the  lines.  The  column 
began  to  move  forward.  Mr.  Sherman  slid  down  the 
bank  with  his  boy  into  the  grove  beside  Stephen. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  struggle.  A  corporal  pitched 
the  drunkard  backwards  over  the  bank,  and  he  rolled  at 
Mr.  Sherman's  feet.  With  a  curse,  he  picked  himself  up, 
fumbling  in  his  pocket.  There  was  a  flash,  and  as  the 
smoke  rolled  from  before  his  eyes,  Stephen  saw  a  man 
of  a  German  regiment  stagger  and  fall. 

It  was  the  signal  for  a  rattle  of  shots.  Stones  and 
bricks  filled  the  air,  and  were  heard  striking  steel  and  flesh 
in  the  ranks.  The  regiment  quivered,  —  then  halted  at 
the  loud  command  of  the  officers,  and  the  ranks  faced  out 
with  level  guns.  Stephen  reached  for  Mr.  Sherman's 
boy,  but  a  gentleman  had  already  thrown  him  and  was 
covering  his  body.  He  contrived  to  throw  down  a  woman 
standing  beside  him  before  the  minie  balls  swished  over 
their  heads,  and  the  leaves  and  branches  began  to  fall. 
Between  the  popping  of  the  shots  sounded  the  shrieks  of 
wounded  women  and  children,  the  groans  and  curses  of 
men,  and  the  stampeding  of  hundreds. 

"  Lie  down,  Brice !  For  God's  sake  lie  down ! "  Mr. 
Sherman  cried. 

He  was  about  to  obey  when  a  young  man,  small  and 


THE  TENTH  OF  MAY  289 

agile,  ran  past  him  from  behind,  heedless  of  the  panic. 
Stopping  at  the  foot  of  the  bank  he  dropped  on  one  knee, 
resting  his  revolver  in  the  hollow  of  his  left  arm.  It  was 
Jack  Brinsmade.  At  the  same  time  two  of  the  soldiers 
above  lowered  their  barrels  to  cover  him.  Then  smoke 
hid  the  scene.  When  it  rolled  away,  Brinsmade  lay  on 
the  ground.  He  staggered  to  his  feet  with  an  oath,  and 
confronted  a  young  man  who  was  hatless,  and  upon  whose 
forehead  was  burned  a  black  powder  mark. 

fct  Curse  you  !  "  he  cried,  reaching  out  wildly  ;  "  curse  you, 
you  d — d  Yankee.  I'll  teach  you  to  fight !  " 

Maddened,  he  made  a  rush  at  Stephen's  throat.  But 
Stephen  seized  his  hands  and  bent  them  down,  and  held 
them  firmly  while  he  kicked  and  struggled. 

"  Curse  you  !  "  he  panted  ;  "curse  you,  you  let  me  go  and 
I'll  kill  you,  —  you  Yankee  upstart !  " 

But  Stephen  held  on.  Brinsmade  became  more  and 
more  frantic.  One  of  the  officers,  seeing  the  struggle, 
started  down  the  bank,  was  reviled,  and  hesitated.  At 
that  moment  Major  Sherman  came  between  them. 

"  Let  him  go,  Brice,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of   command. 

Stephen  did  as  he  was  bid.  Whereupon  Brinsmade 
made  a  dash  for  his  pistol  on  the  ground.  Mr.  Sherman 
was  before  him. 

"  Now  see  here,  Jack,"  he  said,  picking  it  up,  "  I  don't 
want  to  shoot  you,  but  I  may  have  to.  That  young  man 
saved  your  life  at  the  risk  of  his  own.  If  that  fool  Dutch 
man  had  had  a  ball  in  his  gun  instead  of  a  wad,  Mr.  Brice 
would  have  been  killed." 

A  strange  thing  happened.  Brinsmade  took  one  long 
look  at  Stephen,  turned  on  his  heel,  and  walked  off  rapidly 
through  the  grove.  And  it  may  be  added  that  for  some 
years,  after  he  was  not  seen  in  St.  Louis. 

For  a  moment  the  other  two  stood  staring  after  him. 
Then  Mr.  Sherman  took  his  boy  by  the  hand. 

"Mr.  Brice,"  he  said,  "I've  seen  a  few  things  done  in 
my  life,  but  nothing  better  than  this.  Perhaps  the  day 
may  come  when  you  and  I  may  meet  in  the  army.  They 
don't  seem  to  think  much  of  us  now,"  he  added,  smiling ; 


290  •     THE   CRISIS 

"  but  we  may  be  of  use  to  'em  later.  If  ever  I  can  serve 
you,  Mr.  Brice,  I  beg  you  to  call  on  me." 

Stephen  stammered  his  acknowledgments.  And  Mr. 
Sherman,  nodding  his  head  vigorously,  went  away  south 
ward  through  the  grove,  toward  Market  Street. 

The  column  was  moving  on.  The  dead  were  being  laid 
in  carriages,  and  the  wounded  tended  by  such  physicians 
as  chanced  to  be  on  the  spot.  Stephen,  dazed  at  what  had 
happened,  took  up  the  march  to  town.  He  strode  faster 
than  the  regiments  with  their  load  of  prisoners,  and  pres 
ently  he  found  himself  abreast  the  little  file  of  dragoons 
who  were  guarded  by  some  of  Blair's  men.  It  was  then 
that  he  discovered  that  the  prisoners'  band  in  front  was 
playing  "  Dixie." 

They  are  climbing  the  second  hill,  and  are  coming  now 
to  the  fringe  of  new  residences  which  the  rich  citizens  have 
built.  Some  of  them  are  closed  and  dark.  In  the  windows 
and  on  the  steps  of  others  women  are  crying  or  waving 
handkerchiefs  and  calling  out  to  the  prisoners,  some  of 
whom  are  gay,  and  others  sullen.  A  distracted  father 
tries  to  break  through  the  ranks  and  rescue  his  son.  Ah, 
here  is  the  Catherwood  house.  That  is  open.  Mrs. 
Catherwood,  with  her  hand  on  her  husband's  arm,  with 
red  eyes,  is  scanning  those  faces  for  the  sight  of  George. 
Will  he  ever  come  back  to  her?  Will  the  Yankees  murder 
him  for  treason,  or  send  him  North  to  languish  the  rest  of 
his  life  ?  No,  she  will  not  go  inside.  She  must  see  him. 
She  will  not  faint,  though  Mrs.  James  has,  across  the  street, 
and  is  even  now  being  carried  into  the  house.  Few  of  us 
can  see  into  the  hearts  of  those  women  that  day,  and  speak 
of  the  suffering  there. 

Near  the  head  of  Mr.  Blair's  regiment  is  Tom.  His  face 
is  cast  down  as  he  passes  the  house  from  which  he  is  ban 
ished.  Nor  do  father,  or  mother,  or  sister  in  their  agony 
make  any  sound  or  sign.  George  is  coming.  The  welcome 
and  the  mourning  and  the  tears  are  all  for  him. 

The  band  is  playing  "  Dixie  "  once  more.  George  is  com 
ing,  and  some  one  else.  The  girls  are  standing  in  a  knot 
behind  the  old  people,  dry-eyed,  their  handkerchiefs  in 


THE   TENTH   OF  MAY  291 

their  hands.  Some  of  the  prisoners  take  off  their  hats  and 
smile  at  the  young  lady  with  the  chiselled  features  and 
brown  hair,  who  wears  the  red  and  white  of  the  South  as 
if  she  -were  born  to  them.  Her  eyes  are  searching.  Ah,  at 
last  she  sees  him,  walking  erect  at  the  head  of  his  dragoons. 
He  gives  her  one  look  of  entreaty,  and  that  smile  which 
should  have  won  her  heart  long  ago.  As  if  by  common 
consent  the  heads  of  the  troopers  are  uncovered  before  her. 

How  bravely  she  waves  at  them  until  they  are  gone  down 
the  street !  Then  only  do  her  eyes  fill  with  tears,  and  she 
passes  into  the  house. 

Had  she  waited,  she  might  have  seen  a  solitary  figure 
leaving  the  line  of  march  and  striding  across  to  Pine 
Street. 

That  night  the  sluices  of  the  heavens  were  opened,  and 
the  blood  was  washed  from  the  grass  in  Lindell  Grove. 
The  rain  descended  in  floods  on  the  distracted  city,  and 
the  great  river  rose  and  flung  brush  from  Minnesota 
forests  high  up  on  the  stones  of  the  levee.  Down  in  the 
long  barracks  weary  recruits,  who  had  stood  and  marched 
all  the  day  long,  went  supperless  to  their  hard  pallets. 
Government  fare  was  hard.  Many  a  boy,  prisoner  or  vol 
unteer,  sobbed  himself  to  sleep  in  the  darkness.  All  were 
prisoners  alike,  prisoners  of  war.  Sobbed  themselves  to 
sleep,  to  dream  of  the  dear  homes  that  were  here  within 
sight  and  sound  of  them,  and  to  which  they  were  powerless 
to  go.  Sisters,  and  mothers,  and  wives  were  there,  beyond 
the  rain,  holding  out  arms  to  them. 

Is  war  a  thing  to  stir  the  blood?  Ay,  while  the  day 
lasts.  But  what  of  the  long  nights  when  husband  and  wife 
have  lain  side  by  side?  What  of  the  children  who  ask 
piteously  where  their  father  is  going,  and  who  are  gathered 
by  a  sobbing  mother  to  her  breast  ?  Where  is  the  picture 
of  that  last  breakfast  at  home  ?  So  in  the  midst  of  the 
cheer  which  is  saddest  in  life  comes  the  thought  that,  just 
one  year  ago,  he  who  is  the  staff  of  the  house  was  wont  to 
sit  down  just  so  merrily  to  his  morning  meal,  before  going 
to  work  in  the  office.  Why  had  they  not  thanked  God  on 
their  knees  for  peace  while  they  had  it? 


292  THE   CRISIS 

See  the  brave  little  wife  waiting  on  the  porch  of  her 
home  for  him  to  go  by.  The  sun  shines,  and  the  grass  is 
green  on  the  little  plot,  and  the  geraniums  red.  Last 
spring  she  was  sewing  here  with  a  song  on  her  lips,  watch 
ing  for  him  to  turn  the  corner  as  he  came  back  to  dinner. 
But  now  !  Hark!  Was  that  the  beat  of  the  drums?  Or 
was  it  thunder?  Her  good  neighbors,  the  doctor  and  his 
wife,  come  in  at  the  little  gate  to  cheer  her.  She  does  not 
hear  them.  Why  does  God  mock  her  with  sunlight  and 
with  friends  ? 

Tramp,  tramp,  tramp !  They  are  here.  Now  the  band 
is  blaring.  That  is  his  company.  And  that  is  his  dear 
face,  the  second  from  the  end.  Will  she  ever  see  it  again  ? 
Look,  Jie  is  smiling  bravely,  as  if  to  say  a  thousand  tender 
things.  "  Will,  are  the  flannels  in  your  knapsack?  You 
have  not  forgotten  that  medicine  for  your  cough?  "  What 
courage  sublime  is  that  which  lets  her  wave  at  him  ?  Well 
for  you,  little  woman,  that  you  cannot  see  the  faces  of  the 
good  doctor  and  his  wife  behind  you.  Oh,  those  guns  of 
Sumter,  how  they  roar  in  your  head!  Ay,  and  will  roar 
again,  through  forty  years  of  widowhood ! 

Mrs.  Brice  was  in  the  little  parlor  that  Friday  night, 
listening  to  the  cry  of  the  rain  outside.  Some  thoughts 
such  as  these  distracted  her.  Why  should  she  be  happy, 
and  other  mothers  miserable?  The  day  of  reckoning  for 
her  happiness  must  surely  come,  when  she  must  kiss 
Stephen  a  brave  farewell  and  give  him  to  his  country.  For 
the  sins  of  the  fathers  are  visited  on  the  children,  unto  the 
third  and  fourth  generation  of  them  that  hate  Him  who  is 
the  Ruler  of  all  things. 

The  bell  rang,  and  Stephen  went  to  the  door.  He  was 
startled  to  see  Mr.  Brinsmade.  That  gentleman  was  sud 
denly  aged,  and  his  clothes  were  wet  and  spattered  with 
mud.  He  sank  into  a  chair,  but  refused  the  spirits  and 
water  which  Mrs.  Brice  offered  him  in  her  alarm. 

"  Stephen,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  searching  the  city 
for  John.  Did  you  see  him  at  Camp  Jackson  —  was  he 
hurt?" 

"  I   think  not,  sir,"  Stephen  answered,  with  clear  eyes. 


THE   TENTH   OF   MAY  293 

"I  saw  him  walking  southward  after  the  firing  was  all 
over." 

"  Thank  God,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brinsmade,  fervently. 
"  If  you  will  excuse  me,  madam,  I  shall  hurry  to  tell  my 
wife  and  daughter.  I  have  been  able  to  find  no  one  who 
saw  him." 

As  he  went  out  he  glanced  at  Stephen's  forehead.  But 
for  once  in  liis  life,  Mr.  Brinsmade  was  too  much  agitated 
to  inquire  about  the  pain  of  another. 

"  Stephen,  you  did  not  tell  me  that  you  saw  John,"  said 
his  mother,  when  the  door  was  closed. 


CHAPTER   XX 

IN    THE    AKSENAL 

THERE  was  a  dismal  tea  at  Colonel  Carvel's  house  in 
Locust  Street  that  evening.  Virginia  did  not  touch  a 
mouthful,  and  the  Colonel  merely  made  a  pretence  of 
eating.  About  six  o'clock  Mrs.  Addison  Colfax  had 
driven  in  from  Bellegarde,  nor  could  it  rain  fast  enough 
or  hard  enough  to  wash  the  foam  from  her  panting  horses. 
She  did  not  wait  for  Jackson  to  come  out  with  an  umbrella, 
but  rushed  through  the  wet  from  the  carriage  to  the  door 
in  her  haste  to  urge  the  Colonel  to  go  to  the  Arsenal  and 
demand  Clarence's  release.  It  was  in  vain  that  Mr.  Car 
vel  assured  her  it  would  do  no  good ;  in  vain  that  he  told 
her  of  a  more  important  matter  that  claimed  him.  Could 
there  be  a  more  important  matter  than  his  own  nephew 
kept  in  durance,  and  in  danger  of  being  murdered  by 
Dutch  butchers  in  the  frenzy  of  their  victory?  Mrs.  Col- 
fax  shut  herself  up  in  her  room,  and  through  the  door 
Virginia  heard  her  sobs  as  she  went  down  to  tea. 

The  Colonel  made  no  secret  of  his  uneasiness.  With 
his  hat  on  his  head,  and  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  he  paced 
up  and  down  the  room.  He  let  his  cigar  go  out,  —  a  more 
serious  sign  still.  Finally  he  stood  with  his  face  to  the 
black  window,  against  which  the  big  drops  were  beating 
in  a  fury. 

Virginia  sat  expressionless  at  the  head  of  the  table,  still 
in  that  gown  of  white  and  crimson,  which  she  had  worn  in 
honor  of  the  defenders  of  the  state.  Expressionless,  save 
for  a  glance  of  solicitation  at  her  father's  back.  If 
resolve  were  feminine,  Virginia  might  have  sat  for  that 
portrait.  There  was  a  light  in  her  dark  blue  eyes.  Under 
neath  there  were  traces  of  the  day's  fatigue.  When  she 
spoke,  there  was  little  life  in  her  voice. 

294 


IN   THE   ARSENAL  295 

"Aren't  you  going  to  the  Planters'  House,  Pa?" 

The  Colonel  turned,  and  tried  to  smile. 

"  I  reckon  not  to-night,  Jinny.     Why  ?  " 

"  To  find  out  what  they  are  going  to  do  with  Clarence," 
she  said  indignantly. 

"  I  reckon  they  don't  know  at  the  Planters'  House,"  he 
said. 

"  Then  —  "  began  Virginia,  and  stopped. 

"Then  what?"  he  asked,  stroking  her  hair. 

"  Then  why  not  go  to  the  Barracks  ?  Order  the  car 
riage,  and  I  will  go  with  you." 

His  smile  faded.  Hje  stood  looking  down  at  her  fixedly, 
as  was  sometimes  his  habit.  Grave  tenderness  was  in  his 
tone. 

44  Jinny,"  he  said  slowly,  "  Jinny,  do  you  mean  to  marry 
Clarence  ?  " 

The  suddenness  of  the  question  took  her  breath.  But 
she  answered  steadily :  — 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  love  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.     But  her  lashes  fell. 

Still  he  stood,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  her  father's  gaze 
pierced  to  her  secret  soul. 

"  Come  here,  my  dear,"  he  said. 

He  held  out  his  arms,  and  she  fluttered  into  them.  The 
tears  were  come  at  last.  It  was  not  the  first  time  she  had 
cried  out  her  troubles  against  that  great  heart  which  had 
ever  been  her  strong  refuge.  From  childhood  she  had  been 
comforted  there.  Had  she  broken  her  doll,  had  Mammy 
Easter  been  cross,  had  lessons  gone  wrong  at  school,  was 
she  ill,  or  weary  with  that  heaviness  of  spirit  which  is 
woman's  inevitable  lot,  —  this  was  her  sanctuary.  But  now  ! 
This  burden  God  Himself  had  sent,  and  none  save  her 
Heavenly  Father  might  cure  it.  Through  his  great  love 
for  her  it  was  given  to  Colonel  Carvel  to  divine  it  —  only 
vaguely. 

Many  times  he  strove  to  speak,  and  could  not.  But 
presently,  as  if  ashamed  of  her  tears,  she  drew  back  from 
him  and  took  her  old  seat  on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 


296  THE   CRISIS 

By  the  light  of  his  intuition,  the  Colonel  chose  his  words 
well.  What  he  had  to  speak  of  was  another  sorrow,  yet  a 
healing  one. 

"  You  must  not  think  of  marriage  now,  my  dear,  when 
the  bread  we  eat  may  fail  us.  Jinny,  we  are  not  as  rich  as 
we  used  to  be.  Our  trade  was  in  the  South  and  West,  and 
now  the  South  and  West  cannot  pay.  I  had  a  conference 
with  Mr.  Hopper  yesterday,  and  he  tells  me  that  we  must 
be  prepared." 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his. 

"And  did  you  think  I  would  care,  dear?"  she  asked 
gently.  "  I  can  bear  with  poverty  and  rags,  to  win  this  war." 

His  own  eyes  were  dim,  but  pride  shone  in  them.  Jack 
son  came  in  on  tiptoe,  and  hesitated.  At  the  Colonel's 
motion  he  took  away  the  china  and  the  silver,  and  removed 
the  white  cloth,  and  turned  low  the  lights  in  the  chan 
delier.  He  went  out  softly,  and  closed  the  door. 

"  Pa,"  said  Virginia,  presently,  "  do  you  trust  Mr. 
Hopper?" 

The  Colonel  gave  a  start. 

"  Why,  yes,  Jinny.  He  improved  the  business  greatly 
before  this  trouble  came.  And  even  now  we  are  not  in 
such  straits  as  some  other  houses." 

"Captain  Lige  doesn't  like  him." 

"  Lige  has  prejudices." 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Virginia.  "  Eliphalet  Hopper  will 
serve  you  so  long  as  he  serves  himself.  No  longer." 

"  I  think  you  do  him  an  injustice,  my  dear,"  answered 
the  Colonel.  But  uneasiness  was  in  his  voice.  "  Hopper  is 
hard  working,  scrupulous  to  a  cent.  He  owns  two  slaves 
now  who  are  running  the  river.  He  keeps  out  of  politics, 
and  he  has  none  of  the  Yankee  faults." 

"  I  wish  he  had,"  said  Virginia. 

The  Colonel  made  no  Answer  to  this.  Getting  up,  he 
went  over  to  the  bell-cord  at  the  door  and  pulled  it.  Jack 
son  came  in  hurriedly.  «? 

"  Is  my  bag  packed  ?  "     g  ^    • 

"  Yes,  Marsa." 

44  Where  are  you  going?"  cried  Virginia,  in  alarm. 


IN   THE   ARSENAL  297 

"  To  Jefferson  City,  dear,  to  see  the  Governor.  I  got 
word  this  afternoon." 

"  In  the  rain  ?  " 

He  smiled,  and  stooped  to  kiss  her. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  in  the  rain  as  far  as  the  depot. 
I  can  trust  you,  Jinny.  And  Lige's  boat  will  be  back  from 
New  Orleans  to-morrow  or  Sunday." 

The  next  morning  the  city  awoke  benumbed,  her  heart 
beating  but  feebly.  Her  commerce  had  nearly  ceased  to 
flow.  A  long  line  of  boats  lay  idle,  with  noses  to  the 
levee.  Men  stood  on  the  street  corners  in  the  rain,  read 
ing  of  the  capture  of  Camp  Jackson,  and  of  the  riot,  and 
thousands  lifted  up  their  voices  to  execrate  the  Foreign 
City  below  Market  Street.  A  vague  terror,  maliciously 
born,  subtly  spread.  The  Dutch  had  broken  up  the  camp, 
a  peaceable  state  institution,  they  had  shot  down  innocent 
women  and  children.  What  might  they  not  do  to  the 
defenceless  city  under  their  victorious  hand,  whose  citizens 
were  nobly  loyal  to  the  South?  Sack  it?  Yes,  and  burn, 
and  loot  it.  Ladies  who  ventured  out  that  day  crossed 
the  street  to  avoid  Union  gentlemen  of  their  acquaintance. 

It  was  early  when  Mammy  Easter  brought  the  news 
paper  to  her  mistress.  Virginia  read  the  news,  and  ran 
joyfully  to  her  aunt's  room.  Three  times  she  knocked,  and 
then  she  heard  a  cry  within.  Then  the  key  was  turned 
and  the  bolt  cautiously  withdrawn,  and  a  crack  of  six  inches 
disclosed  her  aunt. 

"  Oh,  how  you  frightened  me,  Jinny  !  "  she  cried.  "  I 
thought  it  was  the  Dutch  coming  to  murder  us  all.  What 
have  they  done  to  Clarence  ?  " 

"  We  shall  see  him  to-day,  Aunt  Lillian,"  was  the  joyful 
answer.  "The  newspaper  says  that  all  the  Camp  Jackson 
prisoners  are  to  be  set  free  to-day,  on  parole.  Oh,  I  knew 
they  would  not  dare  to  hold  them.  The  whole  state  would 
have  risen  to  their  rescue." 

Mrs.  Colfax  did  not  receive  these  tidings  with  transports. 
She  permitted  her  niece  to  come  into  her  room,  and  then 
sank  into  a  chair  before  the  mirror  of  her  dressing-table, 
and  scanned  her  face  there. 


298  THE   CRISIS 

"  I  could  not  sleep  a  wink,  Jinny,  all  night  long.  I  look 
wretchedly.  I  am  afraid  I  am  going  to  have  another  of 
my  attacks.  How  it  is  raining!  What  does  the  news 
paper  say  ?  " 

"  I'll  get  it  for  you,"  said  Virginia,  used  to  her  aunt's 
vagaries. 

"  No,  no,  tell  me.     I  am  much  too  nervous  to  read  it." 

"  It  says  that  they  will  be  paroled  to-day,  and  that  they 
passed  a  comfortable  night." 

"  It  must  be  a  Yankee  lie,"  said  the  lady.     "  Oh,  what 
a  night !     I  saw  them  torturing  him  in  a  thousand  ways  — 
the  barbarians !     I  know  he  had  to  sleep  on  a  dirty  floor 
with  low-down  trash." 

"  But  we  shall  have  him  here  to-night,  Aunt  Lillian ! " 
cried  Virginia.  "  Mammy,  tell  Uncle  Ben  that  Mr.  Clarence 
will  be  here  for  tea.  We  must  have  a  feast  for  him.  Pa 
said  that  they  could  not  hold  them." 

"Where  is  Comyn  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Colfax.  "Has  he 
gone  down  to  see  Clarence?" 

"He  went  to  Jefferson  City  last  night,"  replied  Vir 
ginia.  "  The  Governor  sent  for  him." 

Mrs.  Colfax  exclaimed  in  horror  at  this  news. 

"Do  you  mean  that  he  has  deserted  us?"  she  cried. 
"  That  he  has  left  us  here  defenceless,  —  at  the  mercy  of 
the  Dutch,  that  they  may  wreak  their  vengeance  upon  us 
women  ?  How  can  you  sit  still,  Virginia  ?  If  I  were  your 
age  and  able  to  drag  myself  to  the  street,  I  should  be  at 
the  Arsenal  now.  I  should  be  on  my  knees  before  that 
detestable  Captain  Lyon,  even  if  he  is  a  Yankee." 

Virginia  kept  her  temper. 

"I  do  not  go  on  my  knees  to  any  man,"  she  said. 
"  Rosetta,  tell  Ned  I  wish  the  carriage  at  once." 

Her  aunt  seized  her  convulsively  by  the  arm. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Jinny?  "  she  demanded.  "  Your 
Pa  would  never  forgive  me  if  anything  happened  to 
you." 

A  smile,  half  pity,  crossed  the  girl's  anxious  face. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  must  risk  adding  to  your  misfor 
tune,  Aunt  Lillian,"  she  said,  and  left  the  room. 


IN   THE   ARSENAL  299 

Virginia  drove  to  Mr.  Brinsmade's.  His  was  one  of  the 
Union  houses  which  she  might  visit  and  not  lose  her  self- 
respect.  Like  many  Southerners,  when  it  became  a  ques 
tion  of  go  or  stay,  Mr.  Brinsmade's  unfaltering  love  for  the 
Union  had  kept  him  in.  He  had  voted  for  Mr.  Bell,  and 
later  had  presided  at  Crittenden  Compromise  meetings. 
In  short,  as  a  man  of  peace,  he  would  have  been  willing  .to 
sacrifice  much  for  peace.  And-  now  that  it  was  to  be  war, 
and  he  had  taken  his  stand  uncompromisingly  with  the 
Union,  the  neighbors  whom  he  had  befriended  for  so  many 
years  could  not  bring  themselves  to  regard  him  as  an 
enemy.  He  never  hurt  their  feelings ;  and  almost  as 
soon  as  the  war  began  he  set  about  that  work  which  has 
been  done  by  self-denying  Christians  of  all  ages, —  the  relief 
of  suffering.  He  visited  with  comfort  the  widow  and  the 
fatherless,  and  many  a  night  in  the  hospital  he  sat  through 
beside  the  dying,  Yankee  and  Rebel  alike,  and  wrote  their 
last  letters  home. 

And  Yankee  and  Rebel  alike  sought  his  help  and  coun 
sel  in  time  of  perplexity  or  trouble,  rather  than  hot 
headed  advice  from  their  own  leaders. 

Mr.  Brinsmade's  own  carriage  was  drawn  up  at  his  door, 
and  that  gentleman  himself  standing  on  the  threshold. 
He  came  down  his  steps  bareheaded  ki  the  wet  to  hand 
Virginia  from  her  carriage. 

Courteous  and  kind  as  ever,  he  asked  for  her  father  and 
her  aunt  as  he  led  her  into  the  house.  However  such 
men  may  try  to  hide  their  own  trials  under  a  cheerful 
mien,  they  do  not  succeed  with  spirits  of  a  kindred 
nature.  With  the  others,  who  are  less  generous,  it  mat 
ters  not.  Virginia  was  not  so  thoughtless  nor  so  selfish 
that  she  could  not  perceive  that  a  trouble  had  come  to 
this  good  man.  Absorbed  as  she  was  in  her  own  affairs, 
she  forgot  some  of  them  in  his  presence.  The  fire  left  her 
tongue,  and  to  him  she  could  not  have  spoken  harshly 
even  of  an  enemy.  Such  was  her  state  of  mind,  when  she 
was  led  into  the  drawing-room.  From  the  corner  of  it 
Anne  arose  and  came  forward  to  throw  her  arms  around 
her  friend. 


300  THE   CRISIS 

"  Jinny,  it  was  so  good  of  you  to  come.  You  don't 
hate  me?" 

"  Hate  you,  Anne  dear !  " 

"  Because  we  are  Union,"  said  honest  Anne,  wishing 
to  have  no  shadow  of  doubt. 

Virginia  was  touched.  "Anne,"  she  cried,  "if  you 
were  German,  I  believe  I  should  love  you." 

"  How  good  of  you  to  come.     I  should  not  have  dared 

?3  to  your  house,  because  I  know  that  you  feel  so  deeply, 
ou  —  you  heard?" 

"  Heard  what  ?  "  asked  Virginia,  alarmed. 

"  That  Jack  has  run  away  —  has  gone  South,  we  think. 
Perhaps,"  she  cried,  "  perhaps  he  may  be  dead."  And 
tears  came  into  the  girl's  eyes. 

It  was  then  that  Virginia  forgot  Clarence.  She  drew 
Anne  to  the  sofa  and  kissed  her. 

"No,  he  is  not  dead,"  she  said  gently,  but  with  a  confi 
dence  in  her  voice  of  rare  quality.  "  He  is  not  dead, 
Anne  dear,  or  you  would  have  heard." 

Had  she  glanced  up,  she  would  have  seen  Mr.  Brins- 
made's  eye  upon  her.  He  looked  kindly  at  all  people,  but 
this  expression  he  reserved  for  those  whom  he  honored. 
A  life  of  service  to  others  had  made  him  guess  that,  in 
the  absence  of  her  .father,  this  girl  had  come  to  him  for 
help  of  some  kind. 

"  Virginia  is  right,  Anne,"  he  said.  "  John  has  gone 
to  fight  for  his  principles,  as  every  gentleman  who  is  free 
should  ;  we  must  remember  that  this  is  his  home,  and  that 
we  must  not  quarrel  with  him,  because  we  think  differ 
ently."  He  paused,  and  came  over  to  Virginia.  "There 
is  something  I  can  do  for  you,  my  dear  ?  "  said  he. 

She  rose.  "  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Brinsmade,"  she  cried.  And 
yet  her  honesty  was  as  great  as  Anne's.  She  would  not 
have  it  thought  that  she  came  for  other  reasons.  "  My 
aunt  is  in  such  a  state  of  worry  over  Clarence  that  I  came 
to  ask  you  if  you  thought  the  news  true,  that  the  prisoners 
are  to  be  paroled.  She  thinks  it  is  a  — "  Virginia 
flushed,  and  bit  a  rebellious  tongue.  "  She  does  not 
believe  it." 


IN   THE   ARSENAL  301 

Even  good  Mr.  Brinsmade  smiled  at  the  slip  she  had 
nearly  made.  He  understood  the  girl,  and  admired  her. 
He  also  understood  Mrs.  Colfax. 

"I  will  drive  to  the  Arsenal  with  you,  Jinny,"  he 
answered.  "I  know  Captain  Lyon,  and  we  shall  find  out 
certainly." 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  sir,"  said  Virginia, 
with  emphasis.  "  Had  I  known  this  —  about  John,  I 
should  not  have  come." 

He  checked  her  with  a  gesture.  What  a  gentleman  of 
the  old  school  he  was,  with  his  white  ruffled  shirt  and  his 
black  stock  and  his  eye  kindling  with  charity. 

"  My  dear,"  he  answered,  "  Nicodemus  is  waiting.  I  was 
just  going  myself  to  ask  Captain  Lyon  about  John." 

Virginia's  further  objections  were  cut  short  by  the  vio 
lent  clanging  of  the  door-bell,  and  the  entrance  of  a  tall, 
energetic  gentleman,  whom  Virginia  had  introduced  to  her 
as  Major  Sherman,  late  of  the  army,  and  now  president  of 
the  Fifth  Street  Railroad.  The  Major  bowed  and  shook 
hands.  He  then  proceeded,  as  was  evidently  his  habit, 
directly  to  the  business  on  which  he  was  come. 

"  Mr.  Brinsmade,"  he  said,  "  I  heard,  accidentally,  half 
an  hour  ago  that  you  were  seeking  news  of  your  son.  I 
regret  to  say,  sir,  that  the  news  I  have  will  not  lead  to  a 
knowledge  of  his  whereabouts.  But  in  justice  to  a  young 
gentleman  of  this  city  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  what 
happened  at  Camp  Jackson." 

u  I  shall  be  most  grateful,  Major.     Sit  down,  sir." 

But  the  Major  did  not  sit  down.  He  stood  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  room.  With  some  gesticulation  which  added 
greatly  to  the  force  of  the  story,  he  gave  a  most  terse  and 
vivid  account  of  Mr.  John's  arrival  at  the  embankment 
by  the  grove  —  of  his  charging  a  whole  regiment  of  Union 
volunteers.  Here  was  honesty  again.  Mr.  Sherman  did 
not  believe  in  mincing  matters  even  to  a  father  and 
sister. 

uAnd,  sir,"  said  he,  "you  may  thank  the  young  man 
who  lives  next  door  to  you  —  Mr.  Brice,  I  believe  —  for 
saving  your  son's  life." 


302  THE   CRISIS 

"Stephen  Brice  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Brinsmade,  in  aston 
ishment. 

Virginia  felt  Anne's  hand  tighten.  But  her  own  was 
limp.  A  hot  wave  swept  over  her.  Was  she  never  to 
hear  the  end  of  this  man  ? 

"Yes,  sir,  Stephen  Brice,"  answered  Mr.  Sherman. 
"  And  I  never  in  my  life  saw  a  finer  thing  done,  in  the 
Mexican  War  or  out  of  it." 

Mr.  Brinsmade  grew  a  little  excited. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  know  him?  '' 

"  As  sure  as  I  know  you,"  said  the  Major,  with  excessive 
conviction. 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  Brinsmade,  "  I  was  in  there  last  night. 
I  knew  the  young  man  had  been  at  the  camp.  I  asked 
him  if  he  had  seen  Jack.  He  told  me  that  he  had,  by  the 
embankment.  But  he  never  mentioned  a  word  about  sav 
ing  his  life." 

"He  didn't!"  cried  the  Major.  "By  glory,  but  he's 
even  better  than  I  thought  him.  Did  you  see  a  black 
powder  mark  on  his  face?" 

"  Why,  yes,  sir,  I  saw  a  bad  burn  of  some  kind  on  his 
forehead." 

"  Well,  sir,  if  one  of  the  Dutchmen  who  shot  at  Jack 
had  known  enough  to  put  a  ball  in  his  musket,  he  would 
have  killed  Mr.  Brice,  who  was  only  ten  feet  away,  stand 
ing  before  your  son." 

Anne  gave  a  little  cry  —  Virginia  was  silent.  Her  lips 
were  parted.  Though  she  realized  it  not,  she  was  thirsting 
to  hear  the  whole  of  the  story. 

The  Major  told  it,  soldier  fashion,  but  well.  How  John 
rushed  up  to  the  line  ;  how  he  (Mr.  Sherman)  had  seen 
Brice  throw  the  woman  down  and  had  cried  to  him  to  lie 
down  himself  ;  how  the  fire  was  darting  down  the  regi 
ment,  and  how  men  and  women  were  falling  all  about 
them ;  and  how  Stephen  had  flung  Jack  and  covered  him 
with  his  body. 

It  was  all  vividly  before  Virginia's  eyes.  Had  she  any 
right  to  treat  such  a  man  with  contempt  ?  She  remem 
bered  how  he  had  looked  at  her  when  he  stood  on  the 


IN   THE   ARSENAL  303 

corner  by  the  Catherwoods'  house.  And,  worst  of  all,  she 
remembered  many  spiteful  remarks  she  had  made,  even  to 
Anne,  the  gist  of  which  had  been  that  Mr.  Brice  was  better 
at  preaching  than  at  fighting.  She  knew  now  —  and  she 
had  known  in  her  heart  before  —  that  this  was  the  great 
est  injustice  she  could  have  done  him. 

"  But  Jack  ?     What  did  Jack  do  ?  " 

It  was  Anne  who  tremblingly  asked  the  Major.  But 
Mr.  Sherman,  apparently,  was  not  the  man  to  say  that 
Jack  would  have  shot  Stephen  had  he  not  interfered. 
That  was  the  ugly  part  of  the  story.  John  would  have 
shot  the  man  who  saved  his  life.  To  the  day  of  his  death 
neither  Mr.  Brinsmade  nor  his  wife  knew  this.  But  while 
Mr.  Brinsmade  and  Anne  had  gone  upstairs  to  the  sick 
bed,  these  were  the  tidings  the  Major  told  Virginia,  who 
kept  it  in  her  heart.  The  reason  he  told  her  was  because 
she  had  guessed  a  part  of  it. 

Nevertheless  Mr.  Brinsmade  drove  to  the  Arsenal  with 
her  that  Saturday,  in  his  own  carriage.  Forgetful  of  his 
own  grief,  long  habit  came  to  him  to  talk  cheerily  with 
her.  He  told  her  many  little  anecdotes  of  his  travel,  but 
not  one  of  them  did  she  hear.  ,Again,  at  the  moment  when 
she  thought  her  belief  in  Clarence  and  her  love  for  him  at 
last  secure,  she  found  herself  drawing  searching  compari 
sons  between  him  and  the  quieter  young  Bostonian.  In 
spite  of  herself  she  had  to  admit  that  Stephen's  deed  was 
splendid.  Was  this  disloyal?  She  flushed  at  the  thought. 
Clarence  had  been  capable  of  the  deed,  —  even  to  the 
rescue  of  an  enemy.  But  —  alas,  that  she  should  carry  it 
out  to  a  remorseless  end  —  would  Clarence  have  been  equal 
to  keeping  silence  when  Mr.  Brinsmade  came  to  him? 
Stephen  Brice  had  not  even  told  his  mother,  so  Mr.  Brins 
made  believed. 

As  if  to  aggravate  her  torture,  Mr.  Brinsmade's  talk 
drifted  to  the  subject  of  young  Mr.  Brice.  This  was  but 
natural.  He  told  her  of  the  brave  struggle  Stephen  had 
made,  and  how  he  had  earned  luxuries,  and  often  neces 
sities,  for  his  mother  by  writing  for  the  newspapers. 

"Often,"   said    Mr.    Brinsmade,    "often    I    have    been 


304  THE  CRISIS 

unable  to  sleep,  and  have  seen  the  light  in  Stephen's  room 
until  the  small  hours  of  the  morning." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Brinsmade,"  cried  Virginia.  "  Can't  you  tell 
me  something  bad  about  him?  Just  once." 

The  good  gentleman  started,  and  looked  searchingly 
at  the  girl  by  his  side,  flushed  and  confused.  Perhaps  he 
thought  —  but  how  can  we  tell  what  he  thought?  How 
can  we  guess  that  our  teachers  laugh  at  our  pranks  after 
they  have  caned  us  for  them  ?  We  do  not  remember  that 
our  parents  have  once  been  young  themselves,  and  that 
some  word  or  look  of  our  own  brings  a  part  of  their  past 
vividly  before  them.  Mr.  Brinsmade  was  silent,  but  he 
looked  out  of  the  carriage  window,  away  from  Virginia. 
And  presently,  as  they  splashed  through  the  mud  near  the 
Arsenal,  they  met  a  knot  of  gentlemen  in  state  uniforms  on 
their  way  to  the  city.  Nicodemus  stopped  at  his  master's 
signal.  Here  was  George  Catherwood,  and  his  father  was 
with  him. 

"  They  have  released  us  on  parole,"  said  George.  "  Yes, 
we  had  a  fearful  night  of  it.  They  could  not  have  kept 
us  —  they  had  no  quarters." 

How  changed  he  was  from  the  gay  trooper  of  yesterday f. 
His  bright  uniform  was  creased  and  soiled  and  muddy,  his 
face  unshaven,  and  dark  rings  of  weariness  under  his  eyes. 

"  Do  you  know  if  Clarence  Colfax  has  gone  home  ? " 
Mr.  Brinsmade  inquired. 

"  Clarence  is  an  idiot,"  cried  George,  ill-naturedly. 
"  Mr.  Brinsmade,  of  all  the  prisoners  here,  he  refused  to. 
take  the  parole,  or  the  oath  of  allegiance.  He  swears 
he  will  remain  a  prisoner  until  he  is  exchanged" 

"  The  young  man  is  Quixotic,"  declared  the  elder  Cath 
erwood,  who  was  not  himself  in  the  best  of  humors. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Brinsmade,  with  as  much  severity  as 
he  was  ever  known  to  use,  "sir,  I  honor  that  young  man 
for  this  more  than  I  can  tell  you.  Nicodeinus,  you  may 
drive  on."  And  he  slammed  the  door. 

Perhaps  George  had  caught  sight  of  a  face  in  the  depths 
of  the  carriage,  for  he  turned  purple,  and  stood  staring  on 
the  pavement  after  his  choleric  parent  had  gone  on. 


IK  THE  ARSENAL  305 

It  was  done.  Of  all  the  thousand  and  more  young  men 
who  had  upheld  the  honor  of  their  state  that  week,  there 
was  but  the  one  who  chose  to  remain  in  durance  vile 
within  the  Arsenal  wall  —  Captain  Clarence  Colfax,  late 
of  the  Dragoons. 

Mr.  Brinsmade  was  rapidly  admitted  to  the  Arsenal, 
and  treated  with  the  respect  which  his  long  service  to  the 
city  deserved.  He  and  Virginia  were  shown  into  the 
bare  military  room  of  the  commanding  officer,  and  thither 
presently  came  Captain  Lyon  himself.  Virginia  tingled 
with  antagonism  when  she  saw  this  man  who  had  made 
the  cit}'  tremble,  who  had  set  an  iron  heel  on  the  flaming 
brand  of  her  Cause.  He,  too,  showed  the  marks  of  his 
Herculean  labors,  but  only  on  his  clothes  and  person. 
His  long  red  hair  was  unbrushed,  his  boots  covered  with 
black  mud,  and  his  coat  unbuttoned.  His  face  was  ruddy, 
and  his  eye  as  clear  as  though  he  had  arisen  from  twelve 
hours'  sleep.  He  bowed  to  Virginia  (not  too  politely, 
to  be  sure).  Her  own  nod  of  bare  recognition  did  not 
seem  to  trouble  him. 

44  Yes,  sir,"  he  said  incisively,  in  response  to  Mr.  Brins- 
made's  question,  "  we  are  forced  to  retain  Captain  Colfax. 
He  prefers  to  remain  a  prisoner  until  he  is  exchanged. 
He  refuses  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United 
States." 

"  And  why  should  he  be  made  to,  Captain  Lyon  ?  In 
what  way  has  he  opposed  the  United  States  troops?" 

It  was  Virginia  who  spoke.  Both  looked  at  her  in 
astonishment. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  Miss  Carvel,"  said  Captain  Lyon, 
gravely,  "  if  I  refuse  to  discuss  that  question  with  you." 

Virginia  bit  her  tongue. 

"  I  understand  that  Mr.  Colfax  is  a  near  relative  of  yours, 
Miss  Carvel,"  the  Captain  continued.  "  His  friends  may 
come  here  to  see  him  during  the  day.  And  I  believe  it  is 
not  out  of  place  for  me  to  express  my  admiration  of  the 
Captain's  conduct.  You  may  care  to  see  him  now  —  " 

"Thank  you,"  said  Virginia,  curtly. 

"  Orderly,  my  respects  to  Captain  Colfax,  and  ask  him  if 


306  THE   CRISIS 

he  will  be  kind  enough  to  come  in  here.  Mr.  Brinsraade," 
said  the  Captain,  "  I  should  like  a  few  words  with  you,  sir." 

And  so,  thanks  to  the  Captain's  delicacy,  when  Clarence 
arrived  he  found  Virginia  alone.  She  was  much  agitated. 
She  ran  toward  him  as  he  entered  the  door,  calling  his 
name. 

"  Max,  you  are  going  to  stay  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  until  I  am  exchanged." 

Aglow  with  admiration,  she  threw  herself  into  his  arms. 

Now,  indeed,  was  she  proud  of  him.     Of  all  the  thousand 

defenders  of  the  state,  he  alone  was  true  to  his  principles 

—  to  the   South.     Within  sight  of   home,  he   alone  had 

chosen  privation. 

She  looked  up  into  his  face,  which  showed  marks  of 
excitement  and  fatigue.  But  above  all,  excitement.  She 
knew  that  he  could  live  on  excitement.  The  thought  came 
to  her  —  was  it  that  which  sustained  him  now  ?  She  put 
it  away  as  treason.  Surely  the  touch  of  this  experience 
would  transform  the  boy  into  the  man.  This  was  the  weak 
point  in  the  armor  which  she  wore  so  bravely  for  her  cousin. 
He  had  grown  up  to  idleness.  He  had  known  neither  care 
nor  responsibility.  His  one  longing  from  a  child  had  been 
that  love  of  fighting  and  adventure  which  is  born  in  the 
race.  Until  this  gloomy  day  in  the  Arsenal,  Virginia  had 
never  characterized  it  as  a  love  of  excitement  —  as  any 
thing  which  contained  a  selfish  element.  She  looked  up 
into  his  face,  I  say,  and  saw  that  which  it  is  given  to  a 
woman  only  to  see.  His  eyes  burned  with  a  light  that  was 
far  away.  Even  with  his  arms  around  her  he  seemed  to 
have  forgotten  her  presence,  and  that  she  had  come  all  the 
way  to  the  Arsenal  to  see  him.  Her  hands  dropped  limply 
from  his  shoulders.  She  drew  away,  as  he  did  not  seem  to 
notice. 

So  it  is  with  men.  Above  and  beyond  the  sacrifice  of  a 
woman's  life,  the  joy  of  possessing  her  soul  and  affection, 
is  something  more  desirable  still  —  fame  and  glory  —  per 
sonal  fame  and  glory.  The  woman  may  share  them,  of 
course,  and  be  content  with  the  radiance.  When  the 
Governor  is  making  his  inauguration  speech,  does  he 


IN   THE   ABSENAL  307 

always  think  of  the  help  the  little  wife  has  given  him? 
And  so,  in  moments  of  excitement,  when  we  see  far  ahead 
into  a  glorious  future,  we  do  not  feel  the  arms  about  us, 
or  value  the  sweets  which,  in  more  humdrum  days,  we 
labored  so  hard  to  attain. 

Virginia  drew  away,  and  the  one  searching  glance  she 
gave  him  he  did  not  see.  He  was  staring  far  beyond. 
Tears  started  in  her  eyes,  and  she  turned  from  him  to  look 
out  over  the  Arsenal  grounds,  still  wet  and  heavy  with  the 
night's  storm.  The  (lay  itself  was  dark  and  damp.  She 
thought  of  the  supper  cooking  at  home.  It  would  not  be 
eaten  now. 

And  yet,  in  that  moment  of  bitterness  Virginia  loved 
him.  Such  are  the  ways  of  women,  even  of  the  proudest, 
who  love  their  country  too.  It  was  but  right  that  he 
should  not  think  of  her  when  the  honor  of  the  South  was 
at  stake ;  and  the  anger  that  rose  within  her  was  against 
those  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  who  had  weakly  ac 
cepted  the  parole. 

"Why  did  Uncle  Comyn  not  come?"  asked  Clarence. 

"  He  has  gone  to  Jefferson  City,  to  see  the  Governor." 

"  And  you  came  alone  ?  " 

"No,  Mr.  Brinsmade  brought  me." 

"And  mother?" 

She  was  waiting  for  that  question.  What  a  relief  that 
it  should  have  come  among  the  first. 

"  Aunt  Lillian  feels  very  badly.  She  was  in  her  room 
when  I  left.  She  was  afraid  "  (Virginia  had  to  smile),  "she 
was  afraid  the  Yankees  would  kill  you." 

"  They  have  behaved  very  well  for  Yankees,"  replied  he. 
"  No  luxury,  and  they  will  not  hear  of  my  having  a  servant. 
They  are  used  to  doing  their  own  work.  But  they  have 
treated  me  much  better  since  I  refused  to  take  their  abomi 
nable  oath." 

"  And  you  will  be  honored  for  it  when  the  news  reaches 
town." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  Jinny  ?  "  Clarence  asked  eagerly.  "  I 
reckon  they  will  think  me  a  fool." 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  any  one  say  so,"  she  flashed  out. 


308  THE  CRISIS 

"  No,"  said  Virginia,  "  our  friends  will  force  them  to  release 
you.  I  do  not  know  much  about  law.  But  you  have  done 
nothing  to  be  imprisoned  for." 

Clarence  did  not  answer  at  once.     Finally  he  said :  — 

"I  do  not  want  to  be  released." 

"  You  do  not  want  to  be  released  !  "  she  repeated. 

"No,"  he  said.  "They  can  exchange  me.  If  I  remain 
a  prisoner,  it  will  have  a  greater  effect  —  for  the  South." 

She  smiled  again,  this  time  at  the  boyish  touch  of 
heroics.  Experience,  responsibility,  and  he  would  get  over 
that.  She  remembered  once,  long  ago,  when  his  mother 
had  shut  him  up  in  his  room  for  a  punishment,  and  he  had 
tortured  her  by  remaining  there  for  two  whole  days. 

It  was  well  on  in  the  afternoon  when  she  drove  back  to 
the  city  with  Mr.  Brinsmade.  Neither  of  them  had  eaten 
since  morning,  nor  had  they  even  thought  of  hunger.  Mr. 
Brinsmade  was  silent,  leaning  back  in  the  corner  of  the 
carriage,  and  Virginia  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts. 
Drawing  near  the  city,  that  dreaded  sound,  the  rumble  of 
drums,  roused  them.  A  shot  rang  out,  and  they  were 
jerked  violently  by  the  starting  of  the  horses.  As  they 
dashed  across  Walnut  at  Seventh  came  the  fusillade.  Vir 
ginia  leaned  out  of  the  window.  Down  the  vista  of  the 
street  was  a  mass  of  blue  uniforms,  and  a  film  of  white 
smoke  hanging  about  the  columns  of  the  old  Presltyterian 
Church.  Mr.  Brinsmade  quietly  drew  her  back  into  the 
carriage. 

The  shots  ceased,  giving  place  to  an  angry  roar  that 
struck  terror  to  her  heart  that  wet  and  lowering  afternoon. 
The  powerful  black  horses  galloped  on,  Nicodemus  tugging 
at  the  reins,  and  great  splotches  of  mud  flying  in  at  the 
windows.  The  roar  of  the  crowd  died  to  an  ominous 
moaning  behind  them.  Then  she  knew  that  Mr.  Brins 
made  was  speaking :  — 

"From  battle  and  murder,  and   from   sudden  death  — 
from  all  sedition,  privy  conspiracy,  and  rebellion,  —  Good 
Lord,  deliver  us." 

He  was  repeating  the  Litany  —  that  Litany  which  had 
come  down  through  the  ages.  They  had  chanted  it  in 


IN   THE   ARSENAL  309 

Cromwell's  time,  when  homes  were  ruined  and  laid  waste, 
arid  innocents  slaughtered.  They  had  chanted  it  on  the 
dark,  barricaded  stairways  of  mediaeval  Paris,  through  St. 
Bartholomew's  night,  when  the  narrow  and  twisted  streets 
ran  with  blood.  They  had  chanted  it  in  ancient  India,  and 
now  it  was  heard  again  in  the  New  World  and  the  New 
Republic  of  Peace  and  Good  Will. 

Rebellion!  The  girl  flinched  at  the  word  which  the 
good  gentleman  had  uttered  in  his  prayers.  Was  she  a 
traitor  to  that  flag  for  which  her  people  had  fought  in 
three  wars?  Rebellion!  She  burned  to  blot  it  forever 
from  the  book.  Oh,  the  bitterness  of  that  day,  which  was 
a  prophecy  of  the  bitterness  to  come. 

Rain  was  dropping  as  Mr.  Brinsmade  escorted  her  up 
her  own  steps.  He  held  her  hand  a  little  at  parting,  and 
bade  her  be  of  good  cheer.  Perhaps  he  guessed  something 
of  the  trial  she  was  to  go  through  that  night  alone  with 
her  aunt,  Clarence's  mother.  Mr.  Brinsmade  did  not  go 
directly  home.  He  went  first  to  the  little  house  next  door 
to  his.  Mrs.  Brice  and  Judge  "W hippie  were  in  the  parlor. 
What  passed  between  them  there  has  not  been  told,  but 
presently  the  Judge  and  Mr.  Brinsmade  came  out  together 
and  stood  a  long  time  in  the  yard,  conversing,  heedless  of 
the  rain. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

.     THE   STAMPEDE 

SUNDAY  dawned,  and  the  people  flocked  to  the  churches. 
But  even  in  the  house  of  God  were  dissension  and  strife. 
From  the  Carvel  pew  at  Dr.  Posthelwaite's  Virginia  saw 
men  and  women  rise  from  their  knees  and  walk  out  — 
their  faces  pale  with  anger.  At  St.  Mark's  the  prayer 
for  the  President  of  the  United  States  was  omitted.  Mr. 
Russell  and  Mr.  Catherwood  nodded  approvingly  over  the 
sermon  in  which  the  South  was  justified,  and  the  sanction 
of  Holy  Writ  laid  upon  her  Institution.  With  not  indif 
ferent  elation  these  gentlemen  watched  the  departure  of 
brethren  with  whom  they  had  labored  for  many  years,  save 
only  when  Mr.  Brinsmade  walked  down  the  aisle  never  to 
return.  So  it  is  that  war,  like  a  devastating  flood,  creeps 
insistent  into  the  most  sacred  places,  and  will  not  be 
denied.  Mr.  Davitt,  at  least,  preached  that  day  to  an 
united  congregation,  —  which  is  to  say  that  none  of  them 
went  out.  Mr.  Hopper,  who  now  shared  a  pew  with  Miss 
Crane,  listened  as  usual  with  a  most  reverent  attention. 

The  clouds  were  low  and  the  streets  wet  as  people  walked 
home  to  dinner,  to  discuss,  many  in  passion  and  some  in 
sorrow,  the  doings  of  the  morning.  A  certain  clergyman 
had  prayed  to  be  delivered  from  the  Irish,  the  Dutch,  and 
the  Devil.  Was  it  he  who  started  the  old  rumor  which 
made  such  havoc  that  afternoon  ?  Those  barbarians  of  the 
foreign  city  to  the  south,  drunk  with  power,  were  to  sack 
and  loot  the  city.  How  it  flew  across  street  and  alley, 
from  yard  to  yard,  and  from  house  to  house  !  Privileged 
Ned  ran  into  the  dining-room  where  Virginia  and  her 
aunt  were  sitting,  his  eyes  rolling  and  his  face  ashen  with 
terror,  crying  out  that  the  Dutch  were  marching  on  the 
city,  firebrands  in  hand  and  murder  in  their  hearts. 

310 


THE   STAMPEDE  311 

"  De  Gen'ral  done  gib  out  er  proclamation,  Miss  Jinny," 
he  cried.  "  De  Gen'ral  done  say  in  dat  proclamation  dat 
he  ain't  got  no  control  ober  de  Dutch  soldiers." 

Mrs.  Colfax  fainted. 

"  Oh  Miss  Jinny,  ain't  you  gwineter  Glencoe  ?  Ain't  you 
gwineter  flee  away?  Every  fambly  on  dis  here  street's 
gwine  away  —  is  packin'  up  fo'  de  country.  Doan't  you 
hear  'em,  Miss  Jinny?  What'll  your  pa  say  to  Ned  ef  he 
ain't  make  you  clear  out !  Doan't  you  hear  de  carridges 
a-rattlin'  off  to  de  country?" 

Virginia  rose  in  agitation,  yet  trying  to  be  calm,  and 
to  remember  that  the  safety  of  the  household  depended 
upon  her  alone.  That  was  her  thought,  —  bred  into  her 
by  generations,  —  the  safety  of  the  household,  of  the  hum 
blest  slave  whose  happiness  and  welfare  depended  upon 
her  father's  bounty.  How  she  longed  in  that  instant  for 
her  father  or  Captain  Lige,  for  some  man's  strength,  to 
depend  upon.  Would  there  be  wisdom  in  flight? 

"  Do  you  want  to  go,  Ned  ?  "  she  asked.  She  has  seen 
her  aunt  swoon  before,  and  her  maid  Susan  knows  well 
what  to  do.  "Do  you  want  to  go,  Ned?" 

"  Laws  Mussy,  no,  Miss  Jinny.  One  nigger  laik  me 
doan't  make  no  difference.  My  Marsa  he  say :  4  Whaffor 
you  leave  ma  house  to  be  ramsacked  by  de  Dutch?' 
What  I  gwineter  answer?  Oh  Miss  Jinny,  you  an'  Miss 
Lill  an'  Mammy  Easter  an'  Susan's  gwine  with  Jackson, 
an'  de  othah  niggahs  can  walk.  Ephum  an'  me'll  jes'  put 
up  de  shutters  an'  load  de  Colonel's  gun." 

By  this  time  the  room  was  filled  with  excited  negroes, 
some  crying,  and  some  laughing  hysterically.  Uncle  Ben 
had  come  in  from  the  kitchen ;  Jackson  was  there,  and  the 
women  were  a  wailing  bunch  in  J;he  corner  by  the  side 
board.  Old  Ephum,  impassive,  and  Ned  stood  together. 
Virginia's  eye  rested  upon  them,  and  the  light  of  love  and 
affection  was  in  it.  She  went  to  the  window.  Yes,  car 
riages  were  indeed  rattling  outside,  though  a  sharp  shower 
was  falling.  Across  the  street  Alphonse,  M.  Renault's 
butler,  was  depositing  bags  and  bundles  on  the  steps. 
M.  Renault  himself  bustled  out  into  the  rain,  gesticulating 


312  THE  CRISIS 

excitedly.  Spying  her  at  the  window,  he  put  his  hands  to 
his  mouth,  cried  out  something,  and  ran  in  again.  Vir 
ginia  flung  open  the  sash  and  listened  for  the  dreaded 
sound  of  drums.  Then  she  crossed  quickly  over  to  where 
her  aunt  was  lying  on  the  lounge. 

"  O  Jinny,"  murmured  that  lady,  who  had  revived, 
"  can't  you  do  something?  Haven't  you  done  anything? 
They  will  be  here  any  moment  to  burn  us,  to  murder  us 
—  to  —  oh,  ray  poor  boy !  Why  isn't  he  here  to  protect 
his  mother  !  Why  was  Comyn  so  senseless,  so  thoughtless, 
as  to  leave  us  at  such  a  time  ! " 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  any  need  to  be  frightened,"  said 
Virginia,  with  a  calmness  that  made  her  aunt  tremble  with 
anger.  "  It  is  probably  only  a  rumor.  Ned,  run  to  Mr. 
Brinsmade's  and  ask  him  about  it." 

However  loath  to  go,  Ned  departed  at  once.  All  honor 
to  those  old-time  negroes  who  are  now  memories,  whose 
devotion  to  their  masters  was  next  to  their  love  of  God. 
A  great  fear  was  in  Ned's  heart,  but  he  went.  And  he 
believed  devoutly  that  he  would  never  see  his  young  mis 
tress  any  more. 

And  while  Ned  is  running  to  Mr.  Brinsmade's,  Mrs.  Col- 
fax  is  summoning  that  courage  which  comes  to  persons  of 
her  character  at  such  times.  She  gathers  her  jewels  into  a 
bag,  and  her  fine  dresses  into  her  trunk,  with  trembling 
hands,  although  she  is  well  enough  now.  The  picture  of 
Clarence  in  the  diamond  frame  she  puts  inside  the  waist 
of  her  gown.  No,  she  will  not  go  to  .Bellegarde.  That  is 
too  near  the  city.  With  frantic  haste  she  closes  the  trunk, 
which  Ephum  and  Jackson  carry  downstairs  and  place  be 
tween  the  seats  of  the  carriage.  Ned  had  had  the  horses  in  it 
since  church  time.  It  is>  not  safe  outside.  But  where  to  go  ? 
To  Glencoe  ?  It  is  three  in  the  afternoon,  and  Jackson 
explains  that,  with  the  load,  they  would  not  reach  there 
until  midnight,  if  at  all.  To  Kirkwood  or  Webster  ?  Yes  ; 
many  of  the  first  families  live  there,  and  would  take  them 
in  for  the  night.  Equipages  of  all  sorts  are  passing,— 
private  carriages  and  public,  and  corner-stand  hacks.  The 
black  drivers  are  cracking  whips  over  galloping  horses. 


THE   STAMPEDE  313 

Pedestrians  are  hurrying  by  with  bundles  under  their  arms, 
some  running  east,  and  some  west,  and  some  stopping  to 
discuss  excitedly  the  chances  of  each  direction.  From  the 
river  comes  the  hoarse  whistle  of  the  boats  breaking  the 
Sabbath  stillness  there.  It  is  a  panic  to  be  remembered. 

Virginia  leaned  against  the  iron  railing  of  the  steps, 
watching  the  scene,  and  waiting  for  Ned  to  return  from 
Mr.  Brinsmade's.  Her  face  was  troubled,  as  well  it  might 
be.  The  most  alarming  reports  were  cried  up  to  her  from 
the  street,  and  she  looked  every  moment  for  the  black 
smoke  of  destruction  to  appear  to  the  southward.  Around 
her  were  gathered  the  Carvel  servants,  most  of  them  cry 
ing,  and  imploring  her  not  to  leave  them.  And  when 
Mrs.  Colfax's  trunk  was  brought  down  and  placed  in  the 
carriage  where  three  of  them  might  have  ridden  to  safety, 
a  groan  of  despair  and  entreaty  rose  from  the  faithful 
group  that  went  to  her  heart. 

"Miss  Jinny,  you  ain't  gwineter  leave  yo'  ol'  mammy?" 

"  Hush,  Mammy,"  she  said.  "  No,  you  shall  all  go,  if 
I  have  to  stay  myself.  Ephum,  go  to  the  livery  stable 
and  get  another,  carriage." 

She  went  up  into  her  own  deserted  room  to  gather  the 
few  things  she  would  take  with  her  —  the  little  jewellery 
case  with  the  necklace  of  pearls  which  her  great-grand 
mother  had  worn  at  her  wedding.  Rosetta  and  Mammy 
Easter  were  of  no  use,  and  she  had  sent  them  downstairs 
again.  With  a  flutter  she  opened  her  wardrobe  door, 
to  take  one  last  look  at  the  gowns  there.  You  will  pardon 
her.  They  were  part  of  happier  days  gone  by.  She  fell 
down  on  her  knees  and  opened  the  great  drawer  at  the 
bottom,  and  there  on  the  top  lay  the  dainty  gown  which 
had  belonged  to  Dorothy  Manners.  A  tear  fell  upon  one 
of  the  flowers  of  the  stays.  Irresistibly  pressed  into  her 
mind  the  memory  of  Anne's  fancy  dress  ball,  —  of  the 
episode  by  the  gate,  upon  which  she  had  thought  so  often 
with  burning  face. 

The  voices  below  grow  louder,  but  she  does  not  hear. 
She  is  folding  the  gown  hurriedly  into  a  little  package. 
It  was  her  great-grandmother's ;  her  chief  heirloom  after 


314  THE   CRISIS 

the  pearls.  Silk  and  satin  from  Paris  are  left  behind. 
With  one  glance  at  the  bed  in  which  she  had  slept  since 
childhood,  and  at  the  picture  over  it  which  had  been  her 
mother's,  she  hurries  downstairs.  And  Dorothy  Manners's 
gown  is  under  her  arm.  On  the  landing  she  stops  to 
brush  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief.  If  only  her  father 
were  here ! 

Ah,  here  is  Ned  back  again.  Has  Mr.  Brinsmade  come? 
What  did  he  say  ?  Ned  simply  pointed  out  a  young  man 
standing  on  the  steps  behind  the  negroes.  Crimson  stains 
were  on  Virginia's  cheeks,  and  the  package  she  carried 
under  her  arm  was  like  lead.  The  young  man,  although 
he  showed  no  signs  of  excitement,  reddened  too  as  he 
came  forward  and  took  off  his  hat.  But  the  sight  of  him 
had  a  curious  effect  upon  Virginia,  of  which  she  was  at 
first  unconscious.  A  sense  of  security  came  upon  her  as 
she  looked  at  his  face  and  listened  to  his  voice. 

"  Mr.  Brinsmade  has  gone  to  the  hospital,  Miss  Carvel," 
he  said.  "  Mrs.  Brinsmade  asked  me  to  come  here  with 
your  man  in  the  hope  that  I  might  persuade  you  to  stay 
where  you  are." 

"  Then  the  Germans  are  not  moving  on  the  city  ?  "  she 
said. 

In  spite  of  himself,  Stephen  smiled.  It  was  that  smile 
that  angered  her,  that  made  her  rebel  against  the  advice 
he  had  to  offer ;  that  made  her  forget  the  insult  he  had 
risked  at  her  hands  by  coming  there.  For  she  believed 
him  utterly,  without  reservation.  The  moment  he  had 
spoken  she  was  convinced  that  the  panic  was  a  silly  scare 
which  would  be  food  for  merriment  in  future  years.  And 
yet  —  was  not  that  smile  in  derision  of  herself — of  her 
friends  'who  were  running  away  ?  Was  it  not  an  assump 
tion  of  Northern  superiority,,  to  be  resented  ? 

"  It  is  only  a  malicious  rumor,  Miss  Carvel,"  he  answered. 

"  You  have  been  told  so  upon  good  authority,  I  suppose," 
she  said  dryly.  And  at  the  change  in  her  tone  she  saw 
his  face  fall. 

"I  have  not,"  he  replied  honestly,  "but  I  will  submit  it 
to  your  own  judgment.  Yesterday  General  Harney  super- 


THE   STAMPEDE  315 

seded  Captain  Lyon  in  command  in  St.  Louis.  Some 
citizens  of  prominence  begged  the  General  to  send  the 
troops  away,  to  avoid  further  ill-feeling  and  perhaps  — 
bloodshed."  (They  both  winced  at  the  word.)  "  Colonel 
Blair  represented  to  the  General  that  the  troops  could  not 
be  sent  away,  as  they  had  been  enlisted  to  serve  only  in 
St.  Louis ;  whereupon  the  General  in  his  proclamation 
states  that  he  has  no  control  over  these  Home  Guards. 
That  sentence  has  been  twisted  by  some  rascal  into  a  con 
fession  that  the  Home  Guards  are  not  to  be  controlled.  I 
can  assure  you,  Miss  Carvel,"  added  Stephen,  speaking 
with  a  force  which  made  her  start  and  thrill,  "  I  can  assure 
you  from  a  personal  knowledge  of  the  German  troops  that 
they  are  not  a  riotous  lot,  and  that  they  are  under  perfect 
control.  If  they  were  not,  there  are  enough  regulars  in 
the  city  to  repress  them." 

He  paused.  And  she  was  silent,  forgetful  of  the  hub 
bub  around  her.  It  was  then  that  her  aunt  called  out  to 
her,  with  distressing  shrillness,  from  the  carriage :  — 

"  Jinny,  Jinny,  how  can  you  stand  there  talking  to  young 
men  when  our  lives  are  in  danger  ?  " 

She  glanced  hurriedly  at  Stephen,  who  said  gently :  — 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  delay  you,  Miss  Carvel,  if  you  are 
bent  upon  going." 

She  wavered.  His  tone  was  not  resentful,  simply  quiet. 
Ephum  turned  the  corner  of  the  street,  the  perspiration 
running  on  his  black  face. 

"  Miss  Jinny,  dey  ain't  no  carridges  to  be  had  in  this  town. 
No'm,  not  for  fifty  dollars." 

This  was  the  occasion  for  another  groan  from  the  negroes, 
and  they  began  once  more  to  beseech  her  not  to  leave  them. 
In  the  midst  of  their  cries  she  heard  her  aunt  calling  from 
the  carriage,  where,  beside  the  trunk,  there  was  just  room 
for  her  to  squeeze  in. 

"Jinny,"  cried  that  lady,  frantically,  "are  you  to  go  or 
stay  ?  The  Hessians  will  be  here  at  any  moment.  Oh,  1 
cannot  stay  here  to  be  murdered !  " 

Unconsciously  the  girl  glanced  again  at  Stephen.  He 
had  not  gone,  but  was  still  standing  in  the  rain  on  the  steps, 


316  THE  CRISIS 

the  one  figure  of  strength  and  coolness  she  had  seen  this 
afternoon.  Distracted,  she  blamed  the  fate  which  had  made 
this  man  an  enemy.  How  willingly  would  she  have  leaned 
upon  such  as  he,  and  submitted  to  his  guidance. 

Unluckily  at  that  moment  came  down  the  street  a  group 
which  had  been  ludicrous  on  any  other  day,  and  was,  in 
truth,  ludicrous  to  Stephen  then.  At  the  head  of  it  was  a 
little  gentleman  with  red  mutton-chop  whiskers,  hatless,  in 
spite  of  the  rain  beginning  to  fall.  His  face  was  the  very 
caricature  of  terror.  His  clothes,  usually  neat,  were  awry, 
and  his  arms  were  full  of  various  things,  not  the  least  con 
spicuous  of  which  was  a  magnificent  bronze  clock.  It  was 
this  object  that  caught  Virginia's  eye.  But  years  passed 
before  she  laughed  over  it.  Behind  Mr.  Cluyme  (for  it 
was  he)  trotted  his  family.  Mrs.  Cluyme,  in  a  pink  wrapper, 
carried  an  armful  of  the  family  silver ;  then  came  Belle  with 
certain  articles  of  feminine  apparel  which  need  not  be 
enumerated,  and  the  three  small  Cluymes  of  various  ages 
brought  up  the  rear. 

Mr.  Cluyme,  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  was  come  opposite 
to  the  carriage  when  the  lady  occupant  got  out  of  it. 
Clutching  at  his  sleeve,  she  demanded  where  he  was  going. 
The  bronze  clock  had  a  narrow  escape. 

"  To  the  river,"  he  gasped.  "  To  the  river,  madam  !  " 
His  wife  coming  after  him  had  a  narrower  escape  still. 
Mrs.  Colfax  retained  a  handful  of  lace  from  the  wrapper, 
the  owner  of  which  emitted  a  shriek  of  fright. 

"  Virginia,  I  am  going  to  the  river,"  said  Mrs.  Colfax. 
"  You  may  go  where  you  choose.  I  shall  send  the  carriage 
back  for  you.  Ned,  to  the  levee  !  " 

Ned  did  not  lift  a  rein. 

"  What,  you  black  rascal !     You  won't  obey  me !  " 

Ned  swung  on  his  seat.  "No,  indeedy,  Miss  Lilly,  I 
ain't  a-gwine  'thout  young  Miss.  The  Dutch  kin  cotch 
me  an'  hang  me,  but  I  ain't  a-gwine  'thout  Miss  Jinny." 

Mrs.  Colfax  drew  her  shawl  about  her  shoulders  with 
dignity. 

"  Very  well,  Virginia,"  she  said.  "  111  as  I  am,  I  shall 
walk.  Bear  witness  that  I  have  spent  a  precious  hour 


THE   STAMPEDE  317 

trying  to  save  you.  If  I  live  to  see  your  father  again,  I 
shall  tell  him  that  you  preferred  to  stay  here  and  cany  on 
disgracefully  with  a  Yankee,  that  you  let  your  own  aunt 
risk  her  life  alone  in  the  rain.  Come,  Susan  !  " 

Virginia  was  very  pale.  She  did  not  run  down  the 
steps,  but  she  caught  her  aunt  by  the  arm  ere  that  lady 
had  taken  six  paces.  The  girl's  face  frightened  Mrs.  Col  fax 
into  submission,  and  she  let  herself  be  led  back  into  the  car 
riage  beside  the  trunk.  Those  words  of  Mrs.  Colfax's  stung 
Stephen  to  righteous  anger  and  resentment—  for  Virginia. 
As  to  himself,  he  had  looked  for  insult.  He  turned  to  go 
that  he  might  not  look  upon  her  confusion ;  and  hanging 
on  the  resolution,  swung  on  his  heel  again,  his  eyes  blaz 
ing.  He  saw  in  hers  the  deep  blue  light  of  the  skies  after 
an  evening's  storm.  She  was  calm,  and  save  for  a  little 
quiver  of  the  voice,  mistress  of  herself  as  she  spoke  to  the 
group  of  cowering  servants. 

"Mammy,"  she  said,  "get  up  on  the  box  with  Ned. 
And,  Ned,  walk  the  horses  to  the  levee,  so  that  the  rest 
may  follow.  Ephum,  you  stay  here  with  the  house,  and  I 
will  send  Ned  back  to  keep  you  company." 

With  these  words,  clasping  tightly  the  precious  little 
bundle  under  her  arm,  she  stepped  into  the  carriage. 

Heedless  of  the  risk  he  ran,  sheer  admiration  sent  Stephen 
to  the  carriage  door. 

"  If  I  can  be  of  any  service,  Miss  Carvel,"  he  said,  "  I 
shall  be  happy." 

She  glanced  at  him  wildly. 

"  No,"  she  cried,  "  no.     Drive  on,  Ned  !  " 

And  as  the  horses  slipped  and  started  she  slammed  the 
door  in  his  face. 

Down  on  the  levee  wheels  rattled  over  the  white  stones 
washed  clean  by  the  driving  rain.  The  drops  pelted  the 
chocolate  water  into  froth,  and  a  blue  veil  hid  the  distant 
bluffs  beyond  the  illinois  bottom-lands.  Down  on  the 
levee  rich  and  poor  battled  for  places  on  the  landing-stages, 
and  would  have  thrown  themselves  into  the  flood  had  there 
been  no  boats  to  save  them  from  the  dreaded  Dutch. 
Attila  and  his  Huns  were  not  more  feared.  Oh,  the  mystery 


318  THE   CRISIS 

of  that  foreign  city !  What  might  not  its  Barbarians  do 
when  roused?  The  rich  and  poor  struggled  together;  but 
money  was  a  power  that  day,  and  many  were  pitilessly 
turned  off  because  they  did  not  have  the  high  price  to 
carry  them  —  who  knew  where  ? 

Boats  which  screamed,  and  boats  which  had  a  dragon's 
roar  were  backing  out  of  the  close  ranks  where  they  had 
stood  wheel-house  to  wheel-house,  and  were  dodging  and 
bumping  in  the  channel.  See,  their  guards  are  black  with 
people !  Mrs.  Colfax,  when  they  are  come  out  of  the 
narrow  street  into  the  great  open  space,  remarks  this  with 
alarm.  All  the  boats  will  be  gone  before  they  can  get 
near  one.  But  Virginia  does  not  answer.  She  is  thinking 
of  other  things  than  the  steamboats,  and  wondering  whether 
it  had  not  been  preferable  to  be  killed  by  Hessians. 

Ned  spies  the  Barbara  Lane.  He  knows  that  her  cap 
tain,  Mr.  Vance,  is  a  friend  of  the  family.  What  a 
mighty  contempt  did  Ned  and  his  kind  have  for  foot- 
passengers  !  Laying  about  him  with  his  whip,  and  shout 
ing  at  the  top  of  his  voice  to  make  himself  heard,  he  sent 
the  Colonel's  Kentucky  bays  through  the  crowd  down  to 
the  Barbara's  landing  stage,  the  people  scampering  to  the 
right  and  left,  and  the  Carvel  servants,  headed  by  Uncle 
Ben,  hanging  on  to  the  carriage  springs,  trailing  behind. 
Here  was  a  triumph  for  Ned,  indeed  !  He  will  tell  you  to 
this  day  how  Mr.  Catherwood's  carriage  was  pocketed  by 
drays  and  bales,  and  how  Mrs.  James's  horses  were  seized 
by  the  bridles  and  turned  back.  Ned  had  a  head  on  his 
shoulders,  and  eyes  in  his  head.  He  spied  Captain  Vance 
himself  on  the  stage,  and  bade  Uncle  Ben  hold  to  the 
horses  while  he  shouldered  his  way  to  that  gentleman. 
The  result  was  that  the  Captain  came  bowing  to  the  car 
riage  door,  and  offered  his  own  cabin  to  the  ladies.  But 
the  niggers  —  he  would  take  no  niggers  except  a  maid  for 
each  ;  and  he  begged  Mrs.  Colfax's  pardon  —  he  could  not 
carry  her  trunk. 

So  Virginia  chose  Mammy  Easter,  whose  red  and  yellow 
turban  was  awry  from  fear  lest  she  be  left  behind;  and 
Ned  was  instructed  to  drive  the  rest  with  all  haste  to 


THE   STAMPEDE  319 

Bellegarde.  Captain  Vance  gave  Mrs.  Colfax  his  arm, 
and  Virginia  his  eyes.  He  escorted  the  ladies  to  quarters 
in  the  texas,  and  presently  was  heard  swearing  prodig 
iously  as  the  boat  was  cast  off.  It  was  said  of  him  that 
he  could  turn  an  oath  better  than  any  man  on  the  river, 
which  was  no  mean  reputation. 

Mrs.  Colfax  was  assisted  to  bed  by  Susan.  Virginia 
stood  by  the  little  window  of  the  cabin,  and  as  the  Barbara 
paddled  and  floated  down  the  river  she  looked  anxiously 
for  signals  of  a  conflagration.  Nay,  in  that  hour  she 
wished  that  the  city  might  burn.  So  it  is  that  the  best  of 
us  may  at  times  desire  misery  to  thousands  that  our  own 
malice  may  be  fed.  Virginia  longed  to  see  the  yellow 
flame  creep  along  the  wet,  gray  clouds.  Passionate  tears 
came  to  her  eyes  at  the  thought  of  the  humiliation  she 
had  suffered, — and  before  him,  of  all  men.  Could  she 
ever  live  with  her  aunt  after  what  she  had  said  ?  "  Carry 
ing  on  with  that  Yankee  !  "  The  .horrible  injustice  of  it ! 

Her  anger,  too,  was  still  against  Stephen.  Once  more 
he  had  been  sent  by  circumstances  to  mock  her  and  her 
people.  If  the  city  would  only  burn,  that  his  cocksure 
judgment  might  for  once  be  mistaken,  his  calmness  for 
once  broken  ! 

The  rain  ceased,  the  clouds  parted,  and  the  sun  turned 
the  muddy  river  to  gold.  The  bluffs  shone  May-green  in 
the  western  flood  of  light,  and  a  haze  hung  over  the  bot 
tom-lands.  Not  a  sound  disturbed  the  quiet  of  the  city 
receding  to  the  northward,  and  the  rain  had  washed  the 
pall  of  smoke  from  over  it.  On  the  boat  excited  voices 
died  down  to  natural  tones  ;  men  smoked  on  the  guards 
and  promenaded  on  the  hurricane  deck,  as  if  this  were 
some  pleasant  excursion.  Women  waved  to  the  other 
boats  flocking  after.  Laughter  was  heard,  and  joking. 
Mrs.  Colfax  stirred  in  her  berth  and  began  to  talk. 

"  Virginia,  where  are  we  going  ?  " 

Virginia  did  not  move. 

"  Jinny  !  " 

She  turned.  In  that  hour  she  remembered  that  great 
good-natured  man,  her  mother's  brother,  and  for  his  sake 


320  THE  CRISIS 

Colonel  Carvel  had  put  up  with  much  from  his  wife's  sister- 
in-law.  She  could  pass  over,  but  never  forgive  what  her 
aunt  had  said  to  her  that  afternoon.  Mrs.  Colfax  had 
often  been  cruel  before,  and  inconsiderate.  But  as  the 
girl  thought  of  the  speech,  staring  out  on  the  waters,  it 
suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  no  lady  would  have  uttered 
it.  In  all  her  life  she  had  never  realized  till  now  that 
her  aunt  was  not  a  lady.  From  that  time  forth  Virginia's 
attitude  toward  her  aunt  was  changed. 

She  controlled  herself,  however,  and  answered  some 
thing,  and  went  out  listlessly  to  find  the  Captain  and 
inquire  the  destination  of  the  boat.  Not  that  this  mattered 
much  to  her.  At  the  foot  of  the  companionway  leading 
to  the  saloon  deck  she  saw,  of  all  people,  Mr.  Eliphalet 
Hopper  leaning  on  the  rail,  and  pensively  expectorating 
on  the  roof  of  the  wheel-house.  In  another  mood  Vir 
ginia  would  have  laughed,  for  at  sight  of  her  he  straight 
ened  convulsively,  thrust  his  quid  into  his  cheek,  and 
removed  his  hat  with  more  zeal  than  the  grudging  defer 
ence  he  usually  accorded  to  the  sex.  Clearly  Eliphalet 
would  not  have  chosen  the  situation. 

"  I  cal'late  we  didn't  get  out  any  too  soon,  Miss  Carvel," 
he  remarked,  with  a  sad  attempt  at  jocoseness.  "  There 
won't  be  a  great  deal  in  that  town  when  the  Dutch  get 
through  with  it." 

"  I  think  that  there  are  enough  men  left  in  it  to  save 
it,"  said  Virginia. 

Apparently  Mr.  Hopper  found  no  suitable  answer  to 
this,  for  he  .made  none.  He  continued  to  glance  at  her 
uneasily.  There  was  an  impudent  tribute  in  his  look 
which  she  resented  strongly. 

"  Where  is  the  Captain  ?  "  she  demanded. 

44  He's   down   below  —  ma'am,"  he    replied.     "  Can  — 
can  I  do  anything  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  with  abrupt  maliciousness,  "  you  may 
tell  me  where  you  are  going." 

"  I  cal'late,  up  the  Cumberland  River.  That's  where 
she's  bound  for,  if  she  don't  stop  before  she  gets  there. 
Guess  there  ain't  many  of  'em  inquired  where  she  was 


THE   STAMPEDE  321 

goin',  or  cared  much,"  he  added,  with  a  ghastly  effort 
to  be  genial. 

"  Do  you  care  ?  "  she  demanded,  curiously. 

Eliphalet  grinned. 

"  Not  a  great  deal,"  he  said.  Then  he  felt  called  upon 
to  defend  himself.  "I  didn't  see  any  use  in  gettin' 
murdered,  when  I  couldn't  do  anything." 

She  left  him.  He  stared  after  her  up  the  com- 
panionway,  bit  off  a  generous  piece  of  tobacco,  and 
ruminated.  If  to  be  a  genius  is  to  possess  an  infinite 
stock  of  patience,  Mr.  Hopper  was  a  genius.  There  was 
patience  in  his  smile.  But  it  was  not  a  pleasant  smile 
to  look  upon. 

Virginia  did  not  see  it.  She  had  told  her  aunt  the 
news,  and  stood  in  the  breeze  on  the  hurricane  deck 
looking  southward,  with  her  hand  shading  her  eyes.  The 
Barbara  Lane  happened  to  be  a  boat  with  a  record,  and 
her  name  was  often  in  the  papers.  She  had  already 
caught  up  with  and  distanced  others  which  had  had  half 
an  hour's  start  of  her,  and  was  near  the  head  of  the 
procession. 

Virginia  presently  became  aware  that  people  were 
gathering  around  her  in  knots,  gazing  at  a  boat  coming 
toward  them.  Others  had  been  met  which,  on  learning 
the  dread  news,  turned  back.  But  this  one  kept  her  bow 
steadily  up  the  current,  although  she  had  passed  within  a 
biscuit-toss  of  the  leader  of  the  line  of  refugees.  It  was 
then  that  Captain  Vance's  hairy  head  appeared  above  the 
deck. 

"  Dang  me  !  "  he  said,  "  if  here  ain't  pig-headed  Brent, 
steaming  the  Jewanita  straight  to  destruction." 

"  Oh,  are  you  sure  it's  Captain  Brent  ?  "  cried  Virginia. 

The  Captain  looked  around  in  surprise. 

"  If  that  there  was  Shreve's  old  Enterprise  come  to  life 
again,  I'd  lay  cotton  to  sawdust  that  Brent  had  her. 
Danged  if  he  wouldn't  take  her  right  into  the  jaws  of 
the  Dutch." 

The  Captain's  words  spread,  and  caused  considerable 
excitement.  On  board  the  Barbara  Lane  were  many 


322  THE   CRISIS 

gentlemen  who  had  begun  to  be  shamefaced  over  their 
panic,  and  these  went  in  a  body  to  the  Captain  and  asked 
him  to  communicate  with  the  Juanita.  Whereupon  a 
certain  number  of  whistles  were  sounded,  and  the  Bar 
bara's  bows  headed  for  the  other  side  of  the  channel. 

As  the  Juanita  drew  near,  Virginia  saw  the  square 
figure  and  clean,  smooth-shaven  face  of  Captain  Lige 
standing  in  front  of  his  wheel-house.  Peace  crept  back 
into  her  soul,  and  she  tingled  with  joy  as  the  belis 
clanged  and  the  bucket-planks  churned,  and  the  great 
Nevr  Orleans  packet  crept  slowly  to  the  Barbara's  side. 

"  You  ain't  goin'  in,  Brent  ? "  shouted  the  Barbara's 
captain. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  responded  Mr.  Brent.  At  the  sound  of 
his  voice  Virginia  could  have  wept. 

"  The  Dutch  are  sacking  the  city,"  said  Vance.  "  Didn't 
they  tell  you  ?  " 

"  The  Dutch  —  hell !  "  said  Mr.  Brent,  calmly.  "  Who's 
afraid  of  the  Dutch  ?  " 

A  general  titter  went  along  the  guards,  and  Virginia 
blushed.  Why  could  not  the  Captain  see  her  ? 

"  I'm  on  my  reg'lar  trip,  of  course,"  said  Vance.  Out 
there  on  the  sunlit  river  the  situation  seemed  to  call  for 
an  apology. 

"  Seems  to  be  a  little  more  loaded  than  common,"  re 
marked  Captain  Lige,  dryly,  at  which  there  was  another 
general  laugh. 

"  If  you're  really  goin'  up,"  said  Captain  Vance,  "  I 
reckon  there's  a  few  here  would  like  to  be  massacred,  if 
you'll  take  'em." 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Mr.  Brent ;  "  I'm  bound  for  the 
barbecue."  And  he  gave  a  command. 

While  the  two  great  boats  were  manoeuvring,  and 
slashing  with  one  wheel  and  the  other,  the  gongs  sound 
ing,  Virginia  ran  into  the  cabin. 

uOh,  Aunt  Lillian,"  she  exclaimed,  "here  is  Captain 
Lige  and  the  Juanita,  and  he  is  going  to  take  us  back 
with  him.  He  says  there  is  no  danger." 

It  is  unnecessary  here  to  repeat  the  moral  persuasion 


THE   STAMPEDE  323 

which  Virginia  used  to  get  her  aunt  up  and  dressed. 
That  lady,  when  she  had  heard  the  whistle  and  the  gongs, 
had  let  her  imagination  loose.  Turning  her  face  to  the 
wall,  she  was  in  the  act  of  repeating  her  prayers  as  her 
niece  entered. 

A  big  stevedore  carried  her  down  two  decks  to  where 
the  gang-plank  was  thrown  across.  Captain  Lige  himself 
was  at  the  other  end.  His  face  lighted.  Pushing  the 
people  aside,  he  rushed  across,  snatched  the  lady  from  the 
negro's  arms,  crying :  — 

"Jinny  !  Jinny  Carvel !     Well,  if  this  ain't  fortunate  /" 

The  stevedore's  services  were  required  for  Mammy 
Easter.  And  behind  the  burly  shield  thus  formed,  a 
stoutish  gentleman  slipped  over,  all  unnoticed,  with  a 
carpet-bag  in  his  hand.  It  bore  the  initials  E.  H. 

The  plank  was  drawn  in.  The  great  wheels  began  to 
turn  and  hiss,  the  Barbara's  passengers  waved  good-by 
to  the  foolhardy  lunatics  who  had  elected  to  go  back  into 
the  jaws  of  destruction.  Mrs.  Colfax  was  put  into  a  cabin  ; 
and  Virginia,  in  a  glow,  climbed  with  Captain  Lige  to  the 
hurricane  deck.  There  they  stood  for  a  wrhile  in  silence, 
watching  the  broad  stern  of  the  Barbara  growing  smaller. 

"Just  to  think,"  Miss  Carvel  remarked,  with  a  little 
hysterical  sigh,  "just  to  think  that  some  of  those  people 
brought  bronze  clocks  instead  of  tooth-brushes." 

"  And  what  did  you  bring,  my  girl  ?  "  asked  the  Cap 
tain,  glancing  at  the  parcel  she  held  so  tightly  under  her 
arm. 

He  never  knew  why  she  blushed  so  furiously. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE   STRAINING   OF    ANOTHER    FRIENDSHIP 

CAPTAIN  LIGE  asked  but  two  questions  :  where  was 
the  Colonel,  and  was  it  true  that  Clarence  had  refused  to 
be  paroled  ?  Though  not  possessing  over-fine  suscepti 
bilities,  the  Captain  knew  a  mud-drum  from  a  lady's 
watch,  as  he  himself  said.  In  his  solicitude  for  Virginia, 
he  saw  that  she  was  in  no  state  of  mind  to  talk  of  the 
occurrences  of  the  last  few  days.  So  he  helped  her  to 
climb  the  little  stair  that  winds  to  the  top  of  the  texas, 
—  that  sanctified  roof  where  the  pilot-house  squats.  The 
girl  clung  to  her  bonnet.  Will  you  like  her  any  the  less 
when  you  know  that  it  was  a  shovel  bonnet,  with  long 
red  ribbons  that  tied  under  her  chin  ?  It  became  her 
wonderfully.  "  Captain  Lige,"  she  said,  almost  tearfully, 
as  she  took  his  arm,  "  how  I  thank  heaven  that  you  came 
up  the  river  this  afternoon  !  " 

"  Jinny,"  said  the  Captain,  "  did  you  ever  know  why 
cabins  are  called  staterooms?" 

"  Why,  no,"  answered  she,  puzzled. 

.  "  There  was  an  old  fellow  named  Shreve  who  ran  steam 
boats  before  Jackson  fought  the  redcoats  at  New  Orleans. 
In  Shreve's  time  the  cabins  were  curtained  off,  just  like 
these  new-fangled  sleeping-car  berths.  The  old  man  built 
wooden  rooms,  and  he  named  them  after  the  different 
states,  Kentuck,  and  Illinois,  and  Pennsylvania.  So  that 
when  a  fellow  came  aboard  he'd  say :  4  What  state  am  I 
in,  Cap  ? '  And  from  this  river  has  the  name  spread  all 
over  the  world  —  stateroom.  That's  mighty  interes£w#," 
said  Captain  Lige. 

"  Yes,"  said  Virginia  ;  "  why  didn't  you  tell  me  long 
ago?" 

324 


THE   STRAINING   OF   ANOTHER   FRIENDSHIP    325 

"And  I'll  bet  you  can't  say,"  the  Captain  continued, 
"why  this  house  we're  standing  on  is  called  the  texas." 

"  Because  it  is  annexed  to  the  states,"  she  replied,  quick 
as  a  flash. 

"Well,  you're  bright"  said  he.  "Old  Tufts  got  that 
notion,  when  Texas  came  in.  Like  to  see  Bill  Jenks  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Virginia. 

Bill  Jenks  was  Captain  Brent's  senior  pilot.  His  skin 
hung  on  his  face  in  folds,  like  that  of  a  rhinoceros.  It 
was  very  much  the  same  color.  His  grizzled  hair  was  all 
lengths,  like  a  worn-out  mop ;  his  hand  reminded  one  of 
an  eagle's  claw,  and  his  teeth  were  a  pine  yellow.  He 
greeted  only  such  people  as  he  deemed  worthy  of  notice, 
but  he  had  held  Virginia  in  his  arms. 

"  William,"  said  the  young  lady,  roguishly,  "  how  is  the 
eye,  location,  and  memory  ?  " 

William  abandoned  himself  to  a  laugh.  When  this 
happened  it  was  put  in  the  JuanitcCs  log. 

"  So  the  Cap'n  be  still  harpin'  on  that?  "  he  said.  "  Miss 
Jinny,  he's  just  plumb  crazy  on  a  pilot's  qualifications. " 

"  He  says  that  you  are  the  best  pilot  on  the  river,  but  I 
don't  believe  it,"  said  Virginia. 

William  cackled  again.  He  made  a  place  for  her  on  the 
leather-padded  seat  at  the  back  of  the  pilot  house,  where 
for  a  long  time  she  sat  staring  at  the  flag  trembling  on  the 
jackstaff  between  the  great  sombre  pipes.  The  sun  fell 
down,  but  his  light  lingered  in  the  air  above  as  the  big 
boat  forged  abreast  the  foreign  city  of  South  St.  Louis. 
There  was  the  arsenal,  grim  despite  its  dress  of  green, 
where  Clarence  was  confined  alone. 

Captain  Lige  came  in  from  his  duties  below.  "  Well, 
Jinny,  we'll  soon  be  at  home,"  he  said.  "  We've  made  a 
quick  trip  against  the  rains." 

"  And  —  and  do  you  think  the  city  is  safe  ?  " 

"  Safe  !  "  he  cried.  "  As  safe  as  London  !  "  He  checked 
himself.  "  Jinny,  would  you  like  to  blow  the  whistle  ?  " 

"  I  should  just  love  to,"  said  Virginia.  And  following. 
Mr.  Jenks's  directions  she  put  .her  toe  on  the  tread,  and 
shrank  back  when  the  monster  responded  with  a  snort 


326  THE  CRISIS 

and  a  roar.  River  men  along  the  levee  heard  that  signal 
and  laughed.  The  joke  was  certainly  not  on  sturdy  Elijah 
Brent. 

An  hour  later,  Virginia  and  her  aunt  and  the  Captain, 
followed  by  Mammy  Easter  and  Rosetta  and  Susan,  were 
walking  through  the  streets  of  the  stillest  city  in  the 
Union.  All  that  they  met  was  a  provost's  guard,  for  St. 
Louis  was  under  Martial  Law.  Once  in  a  while  they 
saw  the  light  of  some  contemptuous  citizen  of  the  resi 
dence  district  who  had  stayed  to  laugh.  Out  in  the  sub 
urbs,  at  the  country  houses  of  the  first  families,  people  of 
distinction  slept  five  and  six  in  a  room  —  many  with  only 
a  quilt  between  body  and  matting.  Little  wonder  that 
these  dreamed  of  Hessians  and  destruction.  In  town  they 
slept  with  their  doors  open,  those  who  remained  and  had 
faith.  Martial  law  means  passes  and  explanations,  and 
walking  generally  in  the  light  of  day.  Martial  law  means 
that  the  Commander-in-chief,  if  he  be  an  artist  in  well 
doing,  may  use  his  boot  freely  on  politicians  bland  or  beetle- 
browed.  No  police  force  ever  gave  the  sense  of  security 
inspired  by  a  provost's  guard. 

Captain  Lige  sat  on  the  steps  of  Colonel  Carvel's  house 
that  night,  long  after  the  ladies  were  gone  to  bed.  The 
only  sounds  breaking  the  silence  of  the  city  were  the  beat 
of  the  feet  of  the  marching  squads  and  the  call  of  the  cor 
poral's  relief.  But  the  Captain  smoked  in  agony  until  the 
clouds  of  two  days  slipped  away  from  under  the  stars,  for 
he  was  trying  to  decide  a  Question.  Then  he  went  up  to 
a  room  in  the  house  which  had  been  known  as  his  since 
the  rafters  were  put  down  on  that  floor. 

The  next  morning,  as  the  Captain  and  Virginia  sit  at 
breakfast  together  with  only  Mammy  Easter  to  cook  and 
Rosetta  to  wait  on  them,  the  Colonel  bursts  in.  He  is 
dusty  and  travel-stained  from  his  night  on  the  train,  but 
his  gray  eyes  light  with  affection  as  he  sees  his  friend 
beside  his  daughter. 

"  Jinny,"  he  cries  as  he  kisses  her,  "  Jinny,  I'm  proud  of 
you,  my  girl !  You  didn't  let  the  Yankees  frighten  you. 
But  where  is  Jackson  ?  " 


THE   STRAINING   OF   ANOTHER   FRIENDSHIP    327 

And  so  the  whole  miserable  tale  has  to  be  told  over  again, 
between  laughter  and  tears  on  Virginia's  part,  and  laugh 
ter  and  strong  language  on  Colonel  Carvel's.  What  a 
blessing  that  Lige  met  them,  else  the  Colonel  might  now 
be  starting  for  the  Cumberland  River  in  search  of  his 
daughter.  The  Captain  does  not  take  much  part  in  the 
conversation,  and  he  refuses  the  cigar  which  is  offered  him. 
Mr.  Carvel  draws  back  in  surprise. 

"  Lige,"  he  says,  "  this  is  the  first  time  to  my  knowledge." 

"  I  smoked  too  many  last  night,"  says  the  Captain. 

The  Colonel  sat  down,  with  his  feet  against  the  mantel, 
too  full  of  affairs  to  take  much  notice  of  Mr.  Brent's 
apathy. 

"The  Yanks  have  taken  the  first  trick — that's  sure," 
he  said.  "  But  I  think  we'll  laugh  last,  Jinny.  Jefferson 
City  isn't  precisely  quiet.  The  state  has  got  more  militia, 
or  will  have  more  militia  in  a  day  or  two.  We  won't 
miss  the  thousand  they  stole  in  Camp  Jackson.  They're 
organizing  up  there.  And  I've  got  a  few  commissions 
right  here,"  and  he  tapped  his  pocket. 

"  Pa,"  said  Virginia,  "  did  you  volunteer  ?  " 

The  Colonel  laughed. 

u  The  Governor  wouldn't  have  me,"  he  answered,  i4  He 
said  I  was  more  good  here  in  St.  Louis.  I'll  go  later. 
What's  this  I  hear  about  Clarence  ?  " 

Virginia  related  the  occurrences  of  Saturday.  The 
Colonel  listened  with  many  exclamations,  slapping  his 
knee  from  time  to  time  as  she  proceeded. 

-"  ^.y  gum  •  "  he  cried,  when  she  had  finished,  "  the  boy 
has  it  in  him,  after  all !  They  can't  hold  him  a  day  —  can 
they,  Lige  ?  "  (No  answer  from  the  Captain,  who  is  eat 
ing  his  breakfast  in  silence.)  "  All  that  we  have  to  do  is 
to  go  for  Worington  and  get  a  habeas  corpus  from  the 
United  States  District  Court.  Come  on,  Lige." 

The  Captain  got  up  excitedly,  his  face  purple. 

"  I  reckon  you'll  have  to  excuse  me,  Colonel,"  he  said. 
14  There's  a  cargo  on  my  boat  which  has  got  to  come  off." 

And  without  more  ado  he  left  the  room.  In  consterna 
tion  they  heard  the  front  door  close  behind  him.  And  yet, 


328  THE   CEISIS 

neithar  father  nor  daughter  dared  in  that  hour  add  to  the 
trial  of  the  other  by  speaking  out  the  dread  that  was  in 
their  hearts.  The  Colonel  smoked  for  a  while,  not  a  word 
escaping  him,  and  then  he  patted  Virginia's  cheek. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  run  over  and  see  Russell,  Jinny,"  he 
said,  striving  to  be  cheerful.  "  We  must  get  the  boy  out. 
I'll  see  a  lawyer."  He  stopped  abruptly  in  the  hall  and 
pressed  his  hand  to  his  forehead.  "  My  God,"  he  whis 
pered  to  himself,  "  if  I  could  only  go  to  Silas  !  " 

The  good  Colonel  got  Mr.  Russell,  and  they  went  to 
Mr.  Worington,  Mrs.  Colfax's  lawyer,  of  whose  politics 
it  is  not  necessary  to  speak.  There  was  plenty  of  excite 
ment  around  the  Government  building  where  his  Honor 
issued  the  writ.  There  lacked  not  gentlemen  of  influence 
who  went  with  Mr.  Russell  and  Colonel  Carvel  and  the 
lawyer  and  the  Commissioner  to  the  Arsenal.  They  were 
admitted  to  the  presence  of  the  indomitable  Lyon,  who 
informed  them  that  Captain  Colfax  was  a  prisoner  of  war, 
and,  since  the  arsenal  was  Government  property,  not  in 
the  state.  The  Commissioner  thereupon  attested  the  affi 
davit  to  Colonel  Carvel,  arid  thus  the  application  for  the 
writ  was  made  legal. 

These  things  the  Colonel  reported  to  Virginia;  and  to 
Mrs.  Colfax,  who  received  them  with  red  eyes  and  a  thou 
sand  queries  as  to  whether  that  Yankee  ruffian  would  pay 
any  attention  to  the  Sovereign  law  which  he  pretended  to 
uphold  ;  whether  the  Marshal  would  not  be  cast  over  the 
Arsenal  wall  by  the  slack  of  his  raiment  when  he  went  to 
serve  the  writ.  This  was  not  the  language,  but  the  pur 
port,  of  the  lady's  questions.  Colonel  Carvel  had  made 
but  a  light  breakfast  :  he  had  had  no  dinner,  and  little 
rest  on  the  train.  But  he  answered  his  sister-in-law  with 
unfailing  courtesy.  He  was  too  honest  to  express  a  hope 
which  he  did  not  feel.  He  had  returned  that  evening  to 
a  dreary  household.  During  the  day  the  servants  had 
straggled  in  from  Bellegarde,  and  Virginia  had  had  pre 
pared  those  dishes  which  her  father  loved.  Mrs.  Colfax 
chose  to  keep  her  room,  for  which  the  two  were  silently 
thankful.  Jackson  announced  supper.  The  Colonel  was 


THE   STRAINING   OF   ANOTHER   FRIENDSHIP    329 

humming  a  tune  as  he  went  down  the  stairs,  but  Virginia 
was  not  deceived.  He  would  not  see  the  yearning  in  her 
eyes  as  he  took  his  chair  ;  he  would  not  glance  at  Captain 
Lige's  empty  seat.  It  was  because  he  did  not  dare.  She 
caught  her  breast  when  she  saw  that  the  food  on  his  plate 
lay  untouched. 

"  Pa,  are  you  ill  ?  "  she  faltered. 

He  pushed  his  chair  away,  such  suffering  in  his  look  as 
she  had  never  seen. 

"  Jinny,"  he  said,  "  I  reckon  Lige  is  for  the  Yankees." 

"  I  have  known  it  all  along,"  she  said,  but  faintly. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  ?  "  her  father  demanded. 

"No." 

"  My  God,"  cried  the  Colonel,  in  agony,  "  to  think  that 
he  kept  it  from  me  !  to  think  that  Lige  kept  it  from  me  !  " 

"  It  is  because  he  loves  you,  Pa,"  answered  the  girl, 
gently,  "it  is  because  he  loves  us." 

He  said  nothing  to  that.  Virginia  got  up,  and  went 
softly  around  the  table.  She  leaned  over  his  shoulder. 

"Pa!" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  his  voice  lifeless. 

But  her  courage  was  not  to  be  lightly  shaken. 

"  Pa,  will  you  forbid  him  to  come  here  —  now  ?  " 

A  long  while  she  waited  for  his  answer,  while  the  big 
clock  ticked  out  the  slow  seconds  in  the  hall,  and  her 
heart  beat  wildly. 

"  No,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  As  long  as  I  have  a  roof, 
Lige  may  come  under  it." 

He  rose  abruptly  and  seized  his  hat.  She  did  not  ask 
him  where  he  was  going,  but  ordered  Jackson  to  keep  the 
supper  warm,  and  went  into  the  drawing-room.  The 
lights  were  out,  then,  but  the  great  piano  that  was  her 
mother's  lay  open.  Her  fingers  fell  upon  the  keys.  That 
wondrous  hymn  which  Judge  Whipple  loved,  which  for 
years  has  been  the  comfort  of  those  in  distress,  floated 
softly  with  the  night  air  out  of  the  open  window.  It  was 
"Lead,  Kindly  Light."  Colonel  Carvel  heard  it,  and 
paused. 

Shall  we  follow  him  ? 


330  THE   CRISIS 

He  did  not  stop  again  until  he  reached  the  narrow  street 
at  the  top  of  the  levee  bank,  where  the  quaint  stone  houses 
of  the  old  French  residents  were  being  loaded  with  wares. 
He  took  a  few  steps  back  —  up  the  hill.  Then  he  wheeled 
about,  walked  swiftly  down  the  levee,  and  on  to  the  land 
ing-stage  beside  which  the  big  Juanita  loomed  in  the  night. 
On  her  bows  was  set,  fantastically,  a  yellow  street-car. 

The  Colonel  stopped  mechanically.  Its  unexpected 
appearance  there  had  served  to  break  the  current  of  his 
meditations.  He  stood  staring  at  it,  while  the  roustabouts 
passed  and  repassed,  noisily  carrying  great  logs  of  wood 
on  shoulders  padded  by  their  woollen  caps. 

"  That'll  be  the  first  street-car  used  in  the  city  of  New 
Orleans,  if  it  ever  gets  there,  Colonel." 

The  Colonel  jumped.  Captain  Lige  was  standing  be 
side  him. 

"  Lige,  is  that  you  ?     We  waited  supper  for  you." 

"  Reckon  I'll  have  to  stay  here  and  boss  the  cargo  all 
night.  Want  to  get  in  as  many  trips  as  I  can  before  — 
navigation  closes,"  the  Captain  concluded  significantly. 

Colonel  Carvel  shook  his  head.  u  You  were  never  too 
busy  to  come  for  supper,  Lige.  I  reckon  the  cargo  isn't 
all." 

Captain  Lige  shot  at  him  a  swift  look.     He  gulped. 

"  Come  out  here  on  the  levee,"  said  the  Colonel,  sternly. 

They  walked  out  together,  and  for  some  distance  in 
silence. 

"  Lige,"  said  the  elder  gentleman,  striking  his  stick  on 
the  stones,  "  if  there  ever  was  a  straight  goer,  that's  you. 
You've  always  dealt  squarely  with  me,  and  now  I'm  going 
to  ask  you  a  plain  question.  Are  you  North  or  South  ?  " 

"  I'm  North,  I  reckon,"  answered  the  Captain,  bluntly. 

The  Colonel  bowed  his  head.  It  was  a  long  time  before 
he  spoke  again.  The  Captain  waited  like  a  man  who 
expects  and  deserves  the  severest  verdict.  But  there  was 
no  anger  in  Mr.  Carvel's  voice  —  only  reproach. 

"  And  you  wouldn't  tell  me,  Lige  ?  You  kept  it  from 
me." 

"  My  God,  Colonel,"  exclaimed  the  other,  passionately, 


THE   STRAINING    OF   ANOTHER   FRIENDSHIP     331 

"  how  could  I  ?  I  owe  what  I  have  to  your  charity. 
But  for  you  and  —  and  Jinny  I  should  have  gone  to  the 
devil.  If  you  and  she  are  taken  away,  what  have  I  left 
in  life  ?  I  was  a  coward,  sir,  not  to  tell  you.  You  must 
have  guessed  it.  And  yet,  —  God  help  me,  —  I  can't 
stand  by  and  see  the  nation  go  to  pieces.  Your  nation  as 
well  as  mine,  Colonel.  Your  fathers  fought  that  we  Ameri 
cans  might  inherit  the  earth  —  "  He  stopped  abruptly. 
Then  he  continued  haltingly,  "  Colonel,  I  know  you're  a 
man  of  strong  feelings  and  convictions.  All  I  ask  is  that 
you  and  Jinny  will  think  of  me  as  a,  friend — 

He  choked,  and  turned  away,  not  heeding  the  direction 
of  his  feet.  The  Colonel,  his  stick  raised,  stood  looking 
after  him.  He  was  folded  in  the  near  darkness  before  he 
called  his  name. 

"  Lige  !  " 

"Yes,  Colonel." 

He  came  back,  wondering,  across  the  rough  stones  until 
he  stood  beside  the  tall  figure.  Below  them,  the  lights 
glided  along  the  dark  water. 

"  Lige,  didn't  I  raise  you  ?  Haven't  I  taught  you  that 
my  house  was  your  home?  Come  back,  Lige.  But  — 
but  never  speak  to  me  again  of  this  night  !  Jinny  is 
waiting  for  us." 

Not  a  word  passed  between  them  as  they  went  up  the 
quiet  street.  At  the  sound  of  their  feet  in  the  entry  the 
door  was  flung  open,  and  Virginia,  with  her  hands  out 
stretched,  stood  under  the  hall  light. 

"  Oh,  Pa,  I  knew  you  would  bring  him  back,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

OF   CLARENCE 

CAPTAIN  CLARENCE  COLFAX,  late  of  the  State  Dragoons, 
awoke  on  Sunday  morning  the  chief  of  the  many  topics  of 
the  conversation  of  a  big  city.  His  conduct  drew  forth 
enthusiastic  praise  from  the  gentlemen'  and  ladies  who 
had  thronged  Beauregard  and  Davis  avenues,  and  honest 
admiration  from  the  party  which  had  broken  up  the  camp. 
The  boy  had  behaved  well.  There  were  many  doting 
parents,  like  Mr.  Catherwood,  whose  boys  had  accepted 
the  parole,  whose  praise  was  a  trifle  lukewarm,  to  be  sure. 
But  popular  opinion,  when  once  aroused,  will  draw  a  grunt 
from  the  most  grudging.  •  », 

We  are  not  permitted,  alas,  to  go  behind  these  stern 
walls  and  discover  how  Captain  Colfax  passed  that  event 
ful  Sunday  of  the  Exodus.  We  know  that,  in  his  loneli 
ness,  he  hoped  for  a  visit  from  his  cousin,  and  took  to 
pacing  his  room  in  the  afternoon,  when  a  smarting  sense 
of  injustice  crept  upon  him.  Clarence  was  young.  And 
how  was  he  to  guess,  as  he  looked  out  in  astonishment 
upon  the  frightened  flock  of  white  boats  swimming  south 
ward,  that  his  mother  and  his  sweetheart  were  there  ? 

On  Monday,  while  the  Colonel  and  many  prominent 
citizens  were  busying  themselves  about  procuring  the  legal 
writ  which  was  at  once  to  release  Mr.  Colfax,  and  so  cleanse 
the  whole  body  of  Camp  Jackson's  defenders  from  any 
veiled  intentions  toward  the  Government,  many  well- 
known  carriages  drew  up  before  the  Carvel  House  in  Locust 
Street  to  congratulate  the  widow  and  the  Colonel  upon 
the  possession  of  such  a  son  and  nephew.  There  were 
some  who  slyly  congratulated  Virginia,  whose  martyrdom 
it  was  to  sit  up  with  people  all  the  day  long.  For  Mrs. 
Colfax  kept  her  room,  .and  admitted  only  a  few  of  her 

332 


OF   CLARENCE  333 

bosom  friends  to  cry  with  her.  When  the  last  of  the 
callers  was  gone,  Virginia  was  admitted  to  her  aunt's 
presence. 

"  Aunt  Lillian,  to-morrow  morning  Pa  and  I  are  going 
to  the  Arsenal  with  a  basket  for  Max.  Pa  seems  to  think 
there  is  a  chance  that  he  may  come  back  with  us.  You 
will  go,  of  course." 

The  lady  smiled  wearily  at  the  proposal,  and  raised  her 
hands  in  protest,  the  lace  on  the  sleeves  of  her  dressing- 
gown  falling  away  from  her  white  arms. 

"  Go,  my  dear  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  "  when  I  can't  walk  to 
my  bureau  after  that  terrible  Sunday.  You  are  crazy, 
Jinny.  No,"  she  added,  with  conviction,  "  I  never  again 
expect  to  see  him  alive.  Comyn  says  they  may  release 
him,  does  he  ?  Is  he  turning  Yankee,  too  ?  " 

The  girl  went  away,  not  in  anger  or  impatience,  but  in 
sadness.  Brought  up  to  reverence  her  elders,  she  had 
ignored  the  shallowness  of  her  aunt's  character  in  happier 
days.  But  now  Mrs.  Colfax's  conduct  carried  a  proph 
ecy  with  it.  Virginia  sat  down  on  the  landing  to  ponder 
on  the  years  to  come,  —  on  the  pain  they  were  likely  to 
bring  with  them  from  this  source  —  Clarence  gone  to  the 
war  ;  her  father  gone  (for  she  felt  that  he  would  go  in 
the  end),  Virginia  foresaw  the  lonely  days  of  trial  in 
company  with  this  vain  woman  whom  accident  made  her 
cousin's  mother.  Ay,  and  more,  fate  had  made  her  the 
mother  of  the  man  she  was  to  marry.  The  girl  could 
scarcely  bear  the  thought  —  through  the  hurry  and  swing 
of  the  events  of  two  days  she  had  kept  it  from  her  mind. 
But  now  —  Clarence  was  to  be  released.  To-morrow  he 
would  be  coming  home  to  her  joyfully  for  his  reward,  and 
she  did  not  love  him.  She  was  bound  to  face  that  again 
and  again.  She  had  cheated  herself  again  and  again  with 
other  feelings.  She  had  set  up  intense  love  of  country  in 
the  shrine  where  it  did  not  belong,  and  it  had  answered  — 
for  awhile.  She  saw  Clarence  in  a  hero's  light  —  until 
a  fatal  intimate  knowledge  made  her  shudder  and  draw 
back.  And  yet  her  resolution  should  not  be  water. 
She  would  carry  it  through. 


334  THE   CRISIS 

Captain  Lige's  cheery  voice  roused  her  from  below  - 
and  her  father's  laugh.  And  as  she  went  down  to  them 
she  thanked  God  that  this  friend  had  been  spared  to  him. 
Never  had  the  Captain's  river  yarns  been  better  told 
than  at  the  table  that  evening.  Virginia  did  not  see  him 
glance  at  the  Colonel  when  at  last  he  had  brought  a  smile 
to  her  face. 

"  I'm  going  to  leave  Jinny  with  you,  Lige,"  said  Mr. 
Carvel,  presently.  "  Worington  has  some  notion  that  the 
Marshal  may  go  to  the  Arsenal  to-night  with  the  writ.  I 
mustn't  neglect  the  boy." 

Virginia  stood  in  front  of  him. 

"  Won't  you  let  me  go  ?"  she  pleaded. 

The  Colonel  was  taken  aback.  He  stood  looking  down 
at  her,  stroking  his  goatee,  and  marvelling  at  the  ways  of 
woman. 

"  The  horses  have  been  out  all  day,  Jinny,"  he  said,  "  I 
am  going  in  the  cars." 

"  I  can  go  in  the  cars,  too." 

The  Colonel  looked  at  Captain  Lige. 

"  There  is  only  a  chance  that  we  shall  see  Clarence,"  he 
went  on,  uneasily. 

"  It  is  better  than  sitting  still,"  cried  Virginia,  as  she 
ran  away  to  get  the  bonnet  with  the  red  strings. 

"  Lige,"  said  the  Colonel,  as  the  two  stood  awaiting  her 
in  the  hall,  "  I  can't  make  her  out.  Can  you  ?  " 

The  Captain  did  not  answer. 

It  was  a  long  journey,  in  a  bumping  car  with  bad 
springs  that  rattled  unceasingly,  past  the  string  of  pro 
vost  guarcls.  The  Colonel  sat  in  the  corner,  with  his  head 
bent  down  over  his  stick.  At  length,  cramped  and  weary, 
they  got  out,  and  made  their  way  along  the  Arsenal  wall, 
past  the  sentries  to  the  entrance.  The  sergeant  brought 
his  rifle  to  a  "port." 

"  Commandant's  orders,  sir.     No  one  admitted,"  he  said. 

"  Is  Captain  Colfax  here  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Carvel. 

"  Captain  Colfax  was  taken  to  Illinois  in  a  skiff,  quar 
ter  of  an  hour  since." 

Captain  Lige  gave  vent  to  a  long,  low  whistle. 


OF   CLARENCE  335 

"  A  skiff  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  and  the  river  this  high  !  A 
skiff  !  " 

Virginia  clasped  his  arm  in  terror. 

"  Is  there  danger  ?  " 

Before  he  could  answer  came  the  noise  of  steps  from 
the  direction  of  the  river,  and  a  number  of  people  hurried 
up  excitedly.  Colonel  Carvel  recognized  Mr.  Worington, 
the  lawyer,  and  caught  him  by  the  sleeve. 

44  Anything  happened  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Worington  glanced  at  the  sentry,  and  pulled  the  Col 
onel  past  the  entrance  and  into  the  street.  Virginia  and 
Captain  Lige  followed. 

"  They  have  started  across  with  him  in  a  light  skiff — four 
men  and  acaptain.  The  young  fool !  We  had  him  rescued." 

"  Rescued  !  " 

"  Yes.  There  were  but  five  in  the  guard.  And  a  lot 
of  us,  who  suspected  what  they  were  up  to,  were  standing 
around.  When  we  saw  'em  come  down,  we  made  a  rush 
and  had  the  guard  overpowered.  But  Colfax  called  out 
to  stand  back." 

"Well,  sir." 

"  Cuss  me  if  I  understand  him,"  said  Mr.  Worington. 
"  He  told  us  to  disperse,  and  that  he  proposed  to  remain 
a  prisoner  and  go  where  they  sent  him." 

There  was  a  silence.     Then  - 

"  Move  on  please,  gentlemen,"  said  the  sentry,  and  they 
started  to  walk  toward  the  car  line,  the  lawyer  and  the 
Colonel  together.  Virginia  put  her  hand  through  the 
Captain's  arm.  In  the  darkness  he  laid  his  big  one  over  it. 

"  Don't  you  be  frightened,  Jinny,  at  what  I  said.  I 
reckon  they'll  fetch  up  in  Illinois  all  right,  if  I  know 
Lyon.  There,  there,"  said  Captain  Lige,  soothingly. 
Virginia  was  crying  softly.  She  had  endured  more  in 
the  past  few  days  than  often  falls  to  the  lot  of  one-and- 
twenty.  "There,  there,  Jinny."  He  felt  like  crying 
himself.  He  thought  of  the  many,  many  times  he  had 
taken  her  on  his  knee  and  kissed  her  tears.  He  might 
do  that  no  more,  now.  There  was  the  young  Captain,  a 
prisoner  on  the  great  black  river,  who  had  a  better  right. 


336  THE  CRISIS 

Elijah  Brent  wondered,  as  they  waited  in  the  silent  street 
for  the  lonely  car,  if  Clarence  loved  her  as  well  as  he. 

It  was  very  late  when  they  reached  home,  and  Virginia 
went  silently  up  to  her  room.  Colonel  Carvel  stared 
grimly  after  her,  then  glanced  at  his  friend  as  he  turned 
down  the  lights.  The  eyes  of  the  two  met,  as  of  old,  in 
true  understanding. 

The  sun  was  still  slanting  over  the  tops  of  the  houses 
the  next  morning  when  Virginia,  a  ghostly  figure,  crept 
down  the  stairs  and  withdrew  the  lock  and  bolt  on  the 
front  door.  The  street  was  still,  save  for  the  twittering 
of  birds  and  the  distant  rumble  of  a  cart  in  its  early 
rounds.  The  chill  air  of  the  morning  made  her  shiver  as 
she  scanned  the  entry  for  the  newspaper.  Dismayed,  she 
turned  to  the  clock  in  the  hall.  Its  hands  were  at  quar 
ter  past  five. 

She  sat  long  behind  the  curtains  in  her  father's  little 
library,  the  thoughts  whirling  in  her  brain  as  she  watched 
the  growing  life  of  another  day.  What  would  it  bring 
forth?  Once  she  stole  softly  back  to  the  entry,  self- 
indulgent  and  ashamed,  to  rehearse  again  the  bitter  and 
the  sweet  of  that  scene  of  the  Sunday  before.  She  sum 
moned  up  the  image  of  the  young  man  who  had  stood  on 
these  steps  in  front  of  the  frightened  servants.  She 
seemed  to  feel  again  the  calm  power  and  earnestness  of 
his  face,  to  hear  again  the  clear-cut  tones  of  his  voice  as 
he  advised  her.  Then  she  drew  back,  frightened,  into 
the  sombre  library,  conscience -stricken  that  she  should 
have  yielded  to  this  temptation  then,  when  Clarence  — 
She  dared  not  follow  the  thought,  but  she  saw  the  light 
skiff  at  the  mercy  of  the  angry  river  and  the  dark  night. 
This  had  haunted  her.  If  he  were  spared,  she  prayed  for 
strength  to  consecrate  herself  to  hinic  A  book  lay  on  the 
table,  and  Virginia  took  refuge  in  it.  And  her  eyes, 
glancing  over  the  pages,  rested  on  this  verse  :  — 

"  Thy  voice  is  heard  thro'  rolling  drums, 
That  beat  to  battle  where  he  stands ; 
Thy  face  across  his  fancy  comes, 
And  gives  the  battle  to  his  hands." 


OF   CLARENCE  337 

The  paper  brought  no  news,  nor  mentioned  the  ruse 
to  which  Captain  Lyon  had  resorted  to  elude  the  writ  by 
transporting  his  prisoner  to  Illinois.  Newspapers  were 
not  as  alert  then  as  now.  Colonel  Carvel  was  off  early 
to  the  Arsenal  in  search  of  tidings.  He  would  not  hear 
of  Virginia's  going  with  him.  Captain  Lige,  with  a 
surer  instinct,  went  to  the  river.  What  a  morning  of 
suspense  !  Twice  Virginia  was  summoned  to  her  aunt, 
and  twice  she  made  excuse.  It  was  the  Captain  who 
returned  first,  and  she  met  him  at  the  door. 

"  Oh,  what  have  you  heard?  "  she  cried. 

"  He  is  alive,"  said  the  Captain,  tremulously,  "  alive  and 
well,  and  escaped  South." 

She  took  a  step  toward  him,  and  swayed.  The  Captain 
caught  her.  For  a  brief  instant  he  held  her  in  his  arms, 
and  then  he  led  her  to  the  great  armchair  that  was  the 
Colonel's. 

"Lige,"  she  said,  "are  you  sure  that  this  is  not  —  a 
kindness  ?  " 

"  No,  Jinny,"  he  answered  quickly,  "  but  things  were 
mighty  close.  I  was  afraid  last  night.  The  river  was 
roarin'.  They  struck  out  straight  across,  but  they  drifted 
and  drifted  like  log-wood.  And  then  she  began  to  fill, 
and  all  five  of  'em  to  bail.  Then  —  then  she  went  down. 
The  five  soldiers  came  up  on  that  bit  of  an  island  below 
the  Arsenal.  They  hunted  all  night,  but  they  didn't  find 
Clarence.  And  they  got  taken  off  to  the  Arsenal  this 
morning." 

"  And  how  do  you  know  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"I  knew  that  much  this  morning,"  he  continued,  "and 
so  did  your  pa.  But  the  Andrew  Jackson  is  just  in  from 
Memphis,  and  the  Captain  tells  me  that  he  spoke  the 
Memphis  packet  off  Cape  Girardeau,  and  that  Clarence 
was  aboard.  She  picked  him  up  by  a  miracle,  after  he 
had  just  missed  a  round  trip  through  her  wheel-house." 


BOOK   III 
CHAPTER   I 

INTRODUCING    A   CAPITALIST 

A  CORDON  of  blue  regiments  surrounded  the  city  at  first 
from  Carondelet  to  North  St.  Louis,  like  an  open  fan.  The 
crowds  liked  best  to  go  to  Compton  Heights,  where  the 
tents  of  the  German  citizen-soldiers  were  spread  out  like 
so  many  slices  of  white  cake  on  the  green  beside  the  city's 
reservoir.  Thence  the  eye  stretched  across  the  town, 
catching  the  dome  of  the  Court  House  and  the  spire  of  St. 
John's.  Away  to  the  west,  on  the  line  of  the  Pacific  rail 
road  that  led  halfway  across  the  state,  was  another  camp. 
Then  another,  and  another,  on  the  circle  of  the  fan,  until 
the  river  was  reached  to  the  northward,  far  above  the  bend. 
Within  was  a  peace  that  passed  understanding,  —  the  peace 
of  martial  law. 

Without  the  city,  in  the  great  state  beyond,  an  irate 
governor  had  gathered  his  forces  from  the  east  and  from 
the  west.  Letters  came  and  went  between  Jefferson 
City  and  Jefferson  Davis,  their  purport  being  that  the 
Governor  was  to  work  out  his  own  salvation,  for  a  while 
at  least.  Young  men  of  St.  Louis,  struck  in  a  night 
by  the  fever  of  militarism,  arose  and  went  to  Glencoe. 
Prying  sergeants  and  commissioned  officers,  mostly  of 
hated  German  extraction,  thundered  at  the  door  of  Colonel 
Carvel's  house,  and  other  houses,  there  —  for  Glencoe  was 
a  border  town.  They  searched  the  place  more  than 
once  from  garret  to  cellar,  muttered  guttural  oaths,  and 
smelled  of  beer  and  sauerkraut.  The  haughty  appear- 

338 


THE  CAPTAIN  WAS  GIVEN  AN  AUDIENCE" 


INTRODUCING  A   CAPITALIST  339 

ance  of  Miss  Carvel  did  not  awe  them  —  they  were  blind 
to  all  manly  sensations.  The  Colonel's  house,  alas,  was  one 
of  many  in  Glencoe  written  down  in  red  ink  in  a  book  at 
headquarters  as  a  place  toward  which  the  feet  of  the  young 
men  strayed.  Good  evidence  was  handed  in  time  and  time 
again  that  the  young  men  had  come  and  gone,  and  red- 
faced  commanding  officers  cursed  indignant  subalterns, 
and  implied  that  Beauty  had  had  a  hand  in  it.  Councils 
of  war  were  held  over  the  advisability  of  seizing  Mr. 
Carvel's  house  at  Glencoe,  but  proof  was  lacking  until  one 
rainy  night  in  June  a  captain  and  ten  men  spurred  up  the 
drive  and  swung  into  a  big  circle  around  the  house.  The 
Captain  took  off  his  cavalry  gauntlet  and  knocked  at  the 
door,  more  gently  than  usual.  Miss  Virginia  was  home, 
so  Jackson  said.  The  Captain  was  given  an  audience  more 
formal  than  one  with  the  queen  of  Prussia  could  have  been. 
Miss  Carvel  was  infinitely  more  haughty  than  her  Majesty. 
Was  not  the  Captain  hired  to  do  a  degrading  service  ? 
Indeed,  he  thought  so  as  he  followed  her  about  the  house, 
and  he  felt  like  the  lowest  of  criminals  as  he  opened  a 
closet  door  or  looked  under  a  bed.  He  was  a  beast  of 
the  field,  of  the  mire.  How  Virginia  shrank  from  him 
if  he  had  occasion  to  pass  her  !  Her  gown  would  have 
been  defiled  by  his  touch.  And  yet  the  Captain  did  not 
smell  of  beer,  nor  of  sauerkraut ;  nor  did  he  swear  in  any 
language.  He  did  his  duty  apologetically,  but  he  did  it. 
He  pulled  a  man  (aged  seventeen)  out  from  under  a  great 
hoop  skirt  in  a  little  closet,  and  the  man  had  a  pistol  that 
refused  its  duty  when  snapped  in  the  Captain's  face. 
This  was  little  Spencer  Catherwood,  just  home  from  a 
military  academy. 

Spencer  was  taken  through  the  rain  by  the  chagrined 
Captain  to  the  headquarters,  where  he  caused  a  little 
embarrassment.  No  damning  evidence  was  discovered  on 
his  person,  for  the  pistol  had  long  since  ceased  to  be  a 
firearm.  An'd  so  after  a  stiff  lecture  from  the  Colonel  he 
was  finally  given  back  into  the  custody  of  his  father. 

Despite  the  pickets,  the  young  men  filtered  through 
daily,  —  or  rather  nightly.  Presently  some  of  them  began 


340  THE   CRISIS 

to  come  back,  gaunt  and  worn  and  tattered,  among  the 
grim  cargoes  that  were  landed  by  the  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands  on  the  levee.  And  they  took  them  (oh,  the 
pity  of  it  !)  they  took  them  to  Mr.  Lynch's  slave  pen, 
turned  into  a  Union  prison  of  detention,  where  their 
fathers  and  grandfathers  had  been  wont  to  send  their  dis 
orderly  and  insubordinate  niggers.  They  were  packed 
away,  as  the  miserable  slaves  had  been,  to  taste  something 
of  the  bitterness  of  the  negro's  lot.  So  came  Bert  Russell 
to  welter  in  a  low  room  whose  walls  gave  out  the  stench 
of  years.  How  you  cooked  for  them,  and  schemed  for 
them,  and  cried  for  them,  you  devoted  women  of  the 
South  !  You  spent  the  long  hot  summer  in  town,  and 
every  day  you  went  with  your  baskets  to  Gratiot  Street, 
where  the  infected  old  house  stands,  until  —  until  one 
morning  a  lady  walked  out  past  the  guard,  and  down  the 
street.  She  was  civilly  detained  at  the  corner,  because  she 
wore  army  boots.  After  that  permits  were  issued.  If  you 
were  a  young  lady  of  the  proper  principles  in  those  days, 
you  climbed  a  steep  pair  of  stairs  in  the  heat,  and  stood  in 
line  until  it  became  your  turn  to  be  catechised  by  an  indif 
ferent  young  officer  in  blue  who  sat  behind  a  table  and 
smoked  a  horrid  cigar.  He  had  little  time  to  be  courteous. 
He  was  not  to  be  dazzled  by  a  bright  gown  or  a  pretty 
face ;  he  was  indifferent  to  a  smile  which  would  have  won 
a  savage.  His  duty  was  to  look  down  into  your  heart, 
and  extract  therefrom  the  nefarious  scheme  you  had  made 
to  set  free  the  man  you  loved  ere  he  could  be  sent  north 
to  Alton  or  Columbus.  My  dear,  you  wish  to  rescue  him, 
to  disguise  him,  send  him  south  by  way  of  Colonel  Carvel's 
house  at  Glencoe.  Then  he  will  be  killed.  At  least,  he 
will  have  died  for  the  South. 

First  politics,  and  then  war,  and  then  more  politics,  in 
this  our  country.  Your  masterful  politician  obtains  a 
regiment,  and  goes  to  war,  sword  in  hand.  He  fights 
well,  but  he  is  still  the  politician.  It  was  not  a  case 
merely  of  fighting  for  the  Union,  but  first  of  getting  per 
mission  to  fight.  Camp  Jackson  taken,  and  the  prisoners 
exchanged  south,  Captain  Lyon,  who  moved  like  a  whirl- 


INTRODUCING   A   CAPITALIST  341 

wind,  who  loved  the  Union  beyond  his  own  life,  was 
thrust  down  again.  A  mutual  agreement  was  entered 
into  between  the  Governor  and  the  old  Indian  fighter  in 
command  of  the  Western  Department,  to  respect  each 
other.  A  trick  for  the  Rebels.  How  Lyon  chafed,  and 
paced  the  Arsenal  walks  while  he  might  have  saved  the 
state.  Then  two  gentlemen  went  to  Washington,  and 
the  next  thing  that  happened  was  Brigadier  General 
Lyon,  Commander  of  the  Department  of  the  West. 

Would  General  Lyon  confer  with  the  Governor  of 
Missouri  ?  Yes,  the  General  would  give  the  Governor  a 
safe-conduct  into  St.  Louis,  but  his  Excellency  must  come 
to  the  General.  His  Excellency  came,  and  the  General 
deigned  to  go  with  the  Union  leader  to  the  Planters' 
House.  Conference,  five  hours  ;  result,  a  safe-conduct 
for  the  Governor  back.  And  this  is  how  General 
Lyon  ended  the  talk.  His  words,  generously  preserved 
by  a  Confederate  colonel  who  accompanied  his  Excel 
lency,  deserve  to  be  writ  in  gold  on  the  National 
Annals. 

"Rather  than  concede  to  the  state  of  Missouri  the 
right  to  demand  that  my  Government  shall  not  enlist 
troops  within  her  limits,  or  bring  troops  into  the  state 
whenever  it  pleases;  or  move  its  troops  at  its  own  will 
into,  out  of,  or  through,  the  state ;  rather  than  concede 
to  the  state  of  Missouri  for  one  single  instant  the  right 
to  dictate  to  my  Government  in  any  matter,  however 
unimportant,  I  would "  (rising  and  pointing  in  turn  to 
every  one  in  the  room)  "  see  you,  and  you,  and  you,  and 
you,  and  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  this  state,  dead 
and  buried."  Then,  turning  to  the  Governor,  he  continued, 
"  This  means  war.  In  an  hour  one  of  my  officers  will 
call  for  you  and  conduct  you  out  of  my  lines." 

And  thus,  without  another  word,  without  an  inclination 
of  the  head,  he  turned  upon  his  heel  and  strode  out  of  the 
room,  rattling  his  spurs  and  clanking  his  sabre. 

It  did  mean  war.  In  less  than  two  months  that  indom 
itable  leader  was  lying  dead  beside  Wilson's  Creek,  among 
the  oaks  on  Bloody  Hill.  What  he  would  have  been  to 


342  THE   CRISIS 

this  Union,  had  God  spared  him,  we  shall  never  know. 
He  saved  Missouri,  and  won  respect  and  love  from  the 
brave  men  who  fought  against  him. 

Those  first  fierce  battles  in  the  state  !  What  prayers 
rose  to  heaven,  and  curses  sank  to  hell,  when  the  news  of 
them  came  to  the  city  by  the  river  !  Flags  were  made 
by  loving  fingers,  and  shirts  and  bandages.  Trembling 
young  ladies  of  Union  sympathies  presented  colors  to 
regiments  on  the  Arsenal  Green,  or  at  Jefferson  Bar 
racks,  or  at  Camp  Benton  to  the  northwest  near  the  Fair 
Grounds.  And  then  the  regiments  marched  through  the 
streets  with  bands  playing  that  march  to  which  the  words 
of  the  Battle  Hymn  were  set,  and  those  bright  ensigns 
snapping  at  the  front ;  bright  now,  and  new,  and  crimson. 
But  soon  to  be  stained  a  darker  red,  and  rent  into  tatters, 
and  finally  brought  back  and  talked  over  and  cried  over ; 
and  tenderly  laid  above  an  inscription  in  a  glass  case,  to 
be  revered  by  generations  of  Americans  to  come.  What 
can  stir  the  soul  more  than  the  sight  of  those  old  flags, 
standing  in  ranks  like  the  veterans  they  are,  whose  duty 
has  been  nobly  done?  The  blood  of  the  color-sergeant 
is  there,  black  now  with  age.  But  where  are  the  tears 
of  the  sad  women  who  stitched  the  red  and  the  white  and 
the  blue  together  ? 

The  regiments  marched  through  the  streets  and  aboard 
the  boats,  and  pushed  off  before  a  levee  of  waving  hand 
kerchiefs  and  flags.  Then  heart-breaking  suspense.  Later 
—  much  later,  black  headlines,  and  grim  lists  three  col 
umns  long,  —  three  columns  of  a  blanket  sheet !  "  The 
City  of  Alton  has  arrived  with  the  following  Union  dead 
.and  wounded,  and  the  following  Confederate  wounded 
(prisoners)."  Why  does  the  type  run  together? 

In  a  never-ceasing  procession  they  steamed  up  the 
river ;  those  calm  boats  which  had  been  wont  to  carry 
the  white  cargoes  of  Commerce  now  bearing  the  red 
cargoes  of  war.  And  they  bore  away  to  new  battle 
fields  thousands  of  fresh-faced  boys  from  Wisconsin 
and  Michigan  and  Minnesota,  gathered  at  Camp  Benton. 
Some  came  back  with  their  color  gone  and  their  red 


INTRODUCING   A   CAPITALIST  343 

cheeks  sallow  and  bearded  and  sunken.  Others  came 
not  back  at  all. 

Stephen  Brice,  with  a  pain  over  his  heart  and  a  lump 
in  his  throat,  walked  on  the  pavement  beside  his  old  com 
pany,  but  his  look  avoided  their  faces.  He  wrung  Rich- 
ter's  hand  on  the  landing-stage.  Richter  was  now  a  captain. 
The  good  German's  eyes  were  filled  as  he  said  good-by. 

"  You  will  come,  too,  my  friend,  when  the  country  needs 
you,"  he  said.  "  Now  "  (and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders), 
"  now  have  we  many  with  no  cares  to  go.  I  have  not  even 
a  father  —  "  And  he  turned  to  Judge  Whipple,  who  was 
standing  by,  holding  out  a  bony  hand. 

"  God  bless  you,  Carl,"  said  the  Judge.  And  Carl  could 
scarce  believe  his  ears.  He  got  aboard  the  boat,  her  decks 
already  blue  with  troops,  and  as  she  backed  out  with  her 
whistle  screaming,  the  last  objects  he  saw  were  the  gaunt 
old  man  and  the  broad-shouldered  young  man  side  by  side 
on  the  edge  of  the  landing. 

Stephen's  chest  heaved,  and  as  he  walked  back  to  the 
office  with  the  Judge,  he  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak. 
Back  to  the  silent  office  where  the  shelves  mocked  them. 
The  Judge  closed  the  ground-glass  door  behind  him,  and 
Stephen  sat  until  five  o'clock  over  a  book.  No,  it  was 
not  Whittlesey,  but  Hardee's  "Tactics."  He  shut  it 
with  a  slam,  and  went  to  Verandah  Hall  to  drill  recruits 
on  a  dusty  floor,  —  narrow-chested  citizens  in  suspenders, 
who  knew  not  the  first  motion  in  right  about  face.  For 
Stephen  was  an  adjutant  in  the  Home  Guards  —  what 
was  left  of  them. 

One  we  know  of  regarded  the  going  of  the  troops  and 
the  coming  of  the  wounded  with  an  equanimity  truly 
philosophical.  When  the  regiments  passed  Carvel  & 
Company  on  their  way  riverward  to  embark,  Mr.  Hopper 
did  not  often  take  the  trouble  to  rise  from  his  chair,  nor 
was  he  ever  known  to  go  to  the  door  to  bid  them  God 
speed.  This  was  all  very  well,  because  they  were  Union 
regiments.  But  Mr.  Hopper  did  not  contribute  a  horse, 
nor  even  a  saddle-blanket,  to  the  young  men  who  went 
away  secretly  in  the  night,  without  fathers  or  mothers  or 


344  THE   CRISIS 

sisters  to  wave  at  them.  Mr.  Hopper  had  better  use  for 
his  money. 

One  scorching  afternoon  in  July  Colonel  Carvel  came 
into  the  office,  too  hurried  to  remark  the  pain  in  honest 
Ephum's  face  as  he  watched  his  master.  The  sure  signs 
of  a  harassed  man  were  on  the  Colonel.  Since  May  he 
had  neglected  his  business  affairs  for  others  which  he 
deemed  public,  and  which  were  so  mysterious  that  even 
Mr.  Hopper  could  not  get  wind  of  them.  These  matters 
had  taken  the  Colonel  out  of  town.  But  now  the  neces 
sity  of  a  pass  made  that  awkward,  and  he  went  no  farther 
than  Glencoe,  where  he  spent  an  occasional  Sunday.  To 
day  Mr.  Hopper  rose  from  his  chair  when  Mr.  Carvel 
entered,  —  a  most  unprecedented  action.  The  Colonel 
cleared  his  throat.  Sitting  down  at  his  desk,  he  drummed 
upon  it  uneasily. 

"  Mr.  Hopper  !  "  he  said  at  length. 

Eliphalet  crossed  the  room  quickly,  and  something  that 
was  very  near  a  smile  was  on  his  face.  He  sat  down  close 
to  Mr.  Carvel's  chair  with  a  semi-confidential  air,  —  one 
wholly  new,  had  the  Colonel  given  it  a  thought.  He  did 
not,  but  began  to  finger  some  printed  slips  of  paper  which 
had  indorsements  on  their  backs.  His  fine  lips  were 
tightly  closed,  as  if  in  pain. 

"  Mr.  Hopper,"  he  said,  "  these  Eastern  notes  are  due 
this  week,  are  they  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  Colonel  glanced  up  swiftly. 

"  There  is  no  use  mincing  matters,  Hopper.  You  know 
as  well  as  I  that  there  is  no  money  to  pay  them,"  said  he, 
with  a  certain  pompous  attempt  at  severity  which  char 
acterized  his  kind  nature.  "  You  have  served  me  well. 
You  have  brought  this  business  up  to  a  modern  footing, 
and  made  it  as  prosperous  as  any  in  the  town.  I  am 
sorry,  sir,  that  those  contemptible  Yankees  should  have 
forced  us  to  the  use  of  arms,  and  cut  short  many  promis 
ing  business  careers  such  as  yours,  sir.  But  we  have  to 
face  the  music.  We  have  to  suffer  for  our  principles. 
These  notes  cannot  be  met,  Mr.  Hopper."  And  the  good 


INTKODUCING   A   CAPITALIST  345 

gentleman  looked  out  of  the  window.  He  was  thinking 
of  a  day,  before  the  Mexican  War,  when  his  young  wife 
had  sat  in  the  very  chair  filled  by  Mr.  Hopper  now. 
44  These  notes  cannot  be  met,"  he  repeated,  and  his  voice 
was  near  to  breaking. 

The  flies  droning  in  the  hot  office  made  the  only  sound. 
Outside  the  partition,  among  the  bales,  was  silence. 

44  Colonel,"  said  Mr.  Hopper,  with  a  remarkable  ease,  44 1 
cal'late  these  notes  can  be  met." 

The  Colonel  jumped  as  if  he  had  heard  a  shot,  and  one 
of  the  notes  fell  to  the  floor.  Eliplialet  picked  it  up 
tenderly,  and  held  it. 

44  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  "  Mr.  Carvel  cried.  "  There 
isn't  a  bank  in  town  that  will  lend  me  money.  I  —  I 
haven't  a  friend — a  friend  I  may  ask  who  can  spare  it, 
sir." 

Mr.  Hopper  lifted  up  his  hand.  It  was  a  fat  hand. 
Suavity  was  come  upon  it  like  a  new  glove  and  changed 
the  man.  He  was  no  longer  cringing.  Now  he  had 
poise,  such  poise  as  we  in  these  days  are  accustomed  to 
see  in  leather  and  mahogany  offices.  The  Colonel  glared 
at  him  uncomfortably. 

44 1  will  take  up  those  notes  myself,  sir." 

44  You  !  "  cried  the  Colonel,  incredulously,  44  You  ?  " 

We  must  do  Eliphalet  justice.  There  was  not  a  deal 
of  hypocrisy  in  his  nature,  and  now  he  did  not  attempt 
the  part  of  Samaritan.  He  did  not  beam  upon  the 
Colonel  and  remind  him  of  the  day  on  which,  homeless 
and  friendless,  he  had  been  frightened  into  his  store  by 
a  drove  of  mules.  No.  But  his  day,  —  the  day  toward 
which  he  had  striven  unknown  and  unnoticed  for  so  many 
years  —  the  day  when  he  would  laugh  at  the  pride  of  those 
who  had  ignored  and  insulted  him,  was  dawning  at  last. 
When  we  are  thoughtless  of  our  words,  we  do  not  reckon 
with  that  spark  in  little  bosoms  that  may  burst  into  flame 
and  burn  us.  Not  that  Colonel  Carvel  had  ever  been 
aught  but  courteous  and  kind  to  all.  His  station  in  life 
had  been  his  offence  to  Eliphalet,  who  strove  now  to  hide 
an  exultation  that  made  him  tremble. 


346  THE   CEISIS 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ? "  demanded  the  Colonel, 
again. 

"I  cal'late  that  I  can  gather  together  enough  to  meet 
the  notes,  Colonel.  Just  a  little  friendly  transaction." 

Here  followed  an  interval  of  sheer  astonishment  for 
Mr.  Carvel. 

"  You  have  this  money  ?  "  he  said  at  length. 

Mr.  Hopper  nodded. 

"  And  you  will  take  my  note  for  the  amount  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  Colonel  pulled  his  goatee,  and  sat  back  in  his  chair, 
trying  to  face  the  new  light  in  which  he  saw  his  manager. 
He  knew  well  enough  that  the  man  was  not  doing  this 
out  of  charity,  or  even  gratitude.  He  reviewed  his  whole 
career,  from  that  first  morning  when  he  had  carried  bales 
to  the  shipping  room,  to  his  replacement  of  Mr.  Hood,  and 
there  was  nothing  with  which  to  accuse  him.  He  remem 
bered  the  warnings  of  Captain  Lige  and  Virginia.  He 
could  not  in  honor  ask  a  cent  from  the  Captain  now.  He 
would  not  ask  his  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  Colfax,  to  let  him 
touch  the  money  he  had  so  ably  invested  for  her  ;  that  little 
which  Virginia's  mother  had  left  the  girl  was  sacred. 

Night  after  night  Mr.  Carvel  had  lain  awake  with  the 
agony  of  those  Eastern  debts.  Not  to  pay  was  to  tarnish 
the  name  of  a  Southern  gentleman.  He  could  not  sell 
the  business.  His  house  would  bring  nothing  in  these 
times.  He  rose  and  began  to  pace  the  floor,  tugging  at 
his  chin.  Twice  he  paused  to  stare  at  Mr.  Hopper,  who  sat 
calmly  on,  and  the  third  time  stopped  abruptly  before  him. 

"  See  here,"  he  cried.  "  Where  the  devil  did  you  get 
this  money,  sir  ?  " 

Mr.  Hopper  did  not  rise. 

"  I  haven't  been  extravagant,  Colonel,  since  I've  worked 
for  you,"  he  said.  "  It  don't  cost  me  much  to  live.  I've 
been  fortunate  in  investments." 

The  furrows  in  the  Colonel's  brow  deepened. 

"  You  offer  to  lend  me  five  times  more  than  I  have  ever 
paid  you,  Mr.  Hopper.  Tell  me  how  you  have  made 
this  money  before  I  accept  it." 


INTRODUCING   A   CAPITALIST  347 

Eliphalet  had  never  been  able  to  meet  that  eye  since  he 
had  known  it.  He  did  not  meet  it  now.  But  he  went 
to  his  desk,  and  drew  a  long  sheet  of  paper  from  a  pigeon 
hole. 

"  These  be  some  of  my  investments,"  he  answered,  with 
just  a  tinge  of  surliness.  "  I  cal'late  they'll  stand  inspec 
tion.  I  ain't  forcing  you  to  take  the  money,  sir,"  he 
flared  up,  all  at  once.  "  I'd  like  to  save  the  business." 

Mr.  Carvel  was  disarmed.  He  went  unsteadily  to  his 
desk,  and  none  save  God  knew  the  shock  that  his  pride 
received  that  day.  To  rescue  a  name  which  had  stood 
untarnished  since  he  had  brought  it  into  the  world,  he 
drew  forth  some  blank  notes,  and  filled  them  out.  But 
before  he  signed  them  he  spoke  :  — 

"  You  are  a  business  man,  Mr.  Hopper,"  said  he. 
"  And  as  a  business  man  you  must  know  that  these  notes 
will  not  legally  hold.  It  is  martial  law.  The  courts  are 
abolished,  and  all  transactions  here  in  St.  Louis  are 
invalid." 

Eliphalet  was  about  to  speak. 

"  One  moment,  sir,"  cried  the  Colonel,  standing  up  and 
towering  to  his  full  height.  "  Law  or  no  law,  you  shall 
have  the  money  and  interest,  or  your  security,  which  is 
this  business.  I  need  not  tell  you,  sir,  that  my  word  is 
sacred,  and  binding  forever  upon  me  and  mine." 

u  I'm  not  afraid,  Colonel,"  answered  Mr.  Hopper,  with 
a  feeble  attempt  at  geniality.  He  was,  in  truth,  awed  at 
last. 

"  You  need  not  be,  sir  !  "  said  the  Colonel,  with  equal 
force.  "  If  you  were  —  this  instant  you  should  leave  this 
place."  He  sat  down,  and  continued  more  calmly:  "It 
will  not  be  long  before  a  Southern  Army  marches  into  St. 
Louis,  and  the  Yankee  Government  submits."  He  leaned 
forward.  "  Do  you  reckon  we  can  hold  the  business 
together  until  then,  Mr.  Hopper  ?  " 

God  forbid  that  we  should  smile  at  the  Colonel's  simple 
faith.  And  if  Eliphalet  Hopper  had  done  so,  his  history 
would  have  ended  here. 

"  Leave  that  to  me,  Colonel,"  he  said  soberly. 


348  THE   CEISIS 

Then  came  the  reaction.  The  good  Colonel  sighed  as 
he  signed  away  that  business  which  had  been  an  honor 
to  the  city  where  it  was  founded.  I  thank  heaven  that 
we  are  not  concerned  with  the  details  of  their  talk  that 
day.  Why  should  we  wish  to  know  the  rate  of  interest 
on  those  notes,  or  the  time  ?  It  was  war-time. 

Mr.  Hopper  filled  out  his  check,  and  presently  departed. 
It  was  the  signal  for  the  little  force  which  remained  to 
leave.  Outside,  in  the  store,  Ephum  paced  uneasily,  won 
dering  why  his  master  did  not  come  out.  Presently  he 
crept  to  the  door  of  the  office,  pushed  it  open,  and  beheld 
Mr.  Carvel  with  his  head  bowed  down  in  his  hands. 

"  Marse  Comyn  !  "  he  cried,  "  Marse  Comyn  !  " 

The  Colonel  looked  up.     His  face  was  haggard. 

"  Marse  Comyn,  you  know  what  I  done  promise  young 
Miss  long  time  ago,  befo'  —  befo'  she  done  left  us  ?  " 

"Yes,  Ephum." 

He  saw  the  faithful  old  negro  but  dimly.  Faintly  he 
heard  the  pleading  voice. 

"  Marse  Comyn,  won'  you  give  Ephum  a  pass  down 
river,  ter  f otch  Cap'n  Lige  ? " 

"  Ephum,"  said  the  Colonel,  sadly,  "  I  had  a  letter 
from  the  Captain  yesterday.  He  is  at  Cairo.  His  boat 
is  a  Federal  transport,  and  he  is  in  Yankee  pay." 

Ephum  took  a  step  forward,  appealingly.  "  But  de 
CapVs  yo'  friend,  Marse  Comyn.  He  ain't  never  fo'get 
what  you  done  fo'  him,  Marse  Comyn.  He  ain't  in  de 
army,  suh." 

"  And  I  am  the  Captain's  friend,  Ephum,"  answered  the 
Colonel,  quietly.  "  But  I  will  not  ask  aid  from  any  man 
employed  by  the  Yankee  Government.  No  —  not  from  my 
own  brother,  who  is  in  a  Pennsylvania  regiment." 

Ephum  shuffled  out,  and  his  heart  was  lead  as  he  closed 
the  store  that  night. 

Mr.  Hopper  has  boarded  a  Fifth  Street  car,  which  jangles 
on  with  many  halts  until  it  comes  to  Bremen,  a  German 
settlement  in  the  north  of  the  city.  At  Bremen  great 
droves  of  mules  fill  the  street,  and  crowd  the  entrances  of 


INTRODUCING  A  CAPITALIST  349 

the  sale  stables  there.  Whips  are  cracking  like  pistol 
shots.  Gentlemen  with  the  yellow  cavalry  stripe  of  the 
United  States  Army  are  pushing  to  and  fro  among  the 
drivers  and  the  owners,  and  fingering  the  frightened  ani 
mals.  A  herd  breaks  from  the  confusion  and  is  driven 
like  a  whirlwind  down  the  street,  dividing  at  the  Market 
House.  They  are  going  to  board  the  Government  trans 
port  —  to  die  on  the  battlefields  of  Kentucky  and  Missouri. 

Mr.  Hopper  alights  from  the  car  with  complacency.  He 
stands  for  a  while  on  a  corner,  against  the  hot  building, 
surveying  the  busy  scene,  unnoticed.  Mules  !  Was  it 
not  a  prophecy,  —  that  drove  which  sent  him  into  Mr. 
Carvel's  store  ? 

Presently  a  man  with  a  gnawed  yellow  mustache  and 
a  shifty  eye  walks  out  of  one  of  the  offices,  and  perceives 
our  friend. 

"  Howdy,  Mr.  Hopper  ?  "  says  he. 

Eliphalet  extends  a  hand  to  be  squeezed  and  returned. 

"  Got  them  vouchers  ?  "  he  asks.  He  is  less  careful  of 
his  English  here. 

"  Wai,  I  jest  reckon,"  is  the  answer.  The  fellow  was 
interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  a  smart  young  man  in  a 
smart  uniform,  who  wore  an  air  of  genteel  importance. 
He  could  not  have  been  more  than  two  and  twenty,  and 
his  face  and  manners  were  those  of  a  clerk.  The  tan  of 
field  service  was  lacking  on  his  cheek,  and  he  was  black 
under  the  eyes. 

"  Hullo,  Ford,"  he  said,  jocularly. 

"  Howdy,  Cap,"  retorted  the  other.  "Wai,  suh,  that 
last  lot  was  an  extry,  fo'  sure.  As  clean  a  lot  as  ever  1 
seed.  Not  a  lump  on  'em.  Gov'ment  ain't  cheated  much 
on  them  there  at  one-eighty  a  head,  I  reckon." 

Mr.  Ford  said  this  with  such  an  air  of  conviction  and 
such  a  sober  face  that  the  Captain  smiled.  And  at  the 
same  time  he  glanced  down  nervously  at  the  new  line  of 
buttons  on  his  chest. 

"  I  guess  I  know  a  mule  from  a  Newfoundland  dog  by 
this  time,"  said  he. 

"  Wai,  I  jest  reckon,"  asserted  Mr.  Ford,  with  a  loud 


350  THE   CRISIS 

laugh.  u  Cap'n  Wentworth,  allow  me  to  make  you 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Hopper.  Mr.  Hopper,  Cap'n 
Wentworth." 

The  Captain  squeezed  Mr.  Hopper's  hand  with  fervor. 
"You  interested  in  mules,  Mr.   Hopper?"    asked  the 
military  man. 

"  I  don't  cal'late  to  be,"  said  Mr.  Hopper.  Let  us 
hope  that  our  worthy  has  not  been  presented  as  being 
wholly  without  a  sense  of  humor.  He  grinned  as  he 
looked  upon  this  lamb  in  the  uniform  of  Mars,  and  added, 
"I'm  just  naturally  patriotic,  I  guess.  Cap'n,  '11  you 
have  a  drink  ?  " 

"  And  a  segar,"  added  Mr.  Ford. 

"  Just  one,"  says  the  Captain.  "It's  d — d  tiresome 
lookin'  at  mules  all  day  in  the  sun." 

Well  for  Mr.  Davitt  that  his  mission  work  does  not 
extend  to  Bremen,  that  the  good  man's  charity  keeps  him 
at  the  improvised  hospital  down  town.  Mr.  Hopper  has 
resigned  the  superintendency  of  his  Sunday  School,  it  is 
true,  but  he  is  still  a  pillar  of  the  church. 

The  young  officer  leans  against  the  bar,  and  listens  to 
stories  by  Mr.  Ford,  which  it  behooves  no  church  mem 
bers  to  hear.  He  smokes  Mr.  Hopper's  cigar  and  drinks 
his  whiskey.  And  Eliphalet  understands  that  the  good 
Lord  put  some  fools  into  the  world  in  order  to  give  the 
smart  people  a  chance  to  practise  their  talents.  Mr. 
Hopper  neither  drinks  nor  smokes,  but  he  uses  the  spittoon 
with  more  freedom  in  this  atmosphere. 

When  at  length  the  Captain  has  marched  out,  with  a 
conscious  but  manly  air,  Mr.  Hopper  turns  to  Ford  — 

"  Don't  lose  no  time  in  presenting  them  vouchers  at 
headquarters,"  says  he.  "  Money  is  worth  something 
now.  And  there's  grumbling  about  this  Department  in 
the  Eastern  papers.  If  we  have  an  investigation,  we'll 
whistle.  How  much  to-day  ?  " 

"Three    thousand,"  says    Mr.   Ford.     He  tosses  off   a 
pony  of  Bourbon,  but  his  face  is  not  a  delight  to  look  upon. 
"  Hopper,  you'll  be  a  d — d  rich  man  some  day." 
"I  cal'late  to." 


INTRODUCING   A  CAPITALIST  351 

"  I  do  the  dirty  work.  And  because  I  ain't  got  no  capi 
tal,  I  only  get  four  per  cent." 

"  Don't  one-twenty  a  day  suit  you  ?  " 

"  You  get  blasted  near  a  thousand.  And  you've  got 
horse  contracts,  and  blanket  contracts  besides.  I  know 
you.  What's  to  prevent  my  goin'  south  when  the  vouch 
ers  is  cashed  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Ain't  it  possible  ?  " 

"  I  presume  likely,"  said  Mr.  Hopper,  quietly.  "  Then 
your  mother'll  have  to  move  out  of  her  little  place." 


CHAPTER   II 

NEWS   FROM   CLARENCE 

"  THE  epithet  aristocrat  may  become  odious  and  fatal 
on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi  as  it  was  on  the  banks  of 
the  Seine.  Let  no  man  deceive  himself  !  These  are  fear 
ful  times.  Thousands  of  our  population,  by  the  sudden 
stoppage  of  business,  are  thrown  out  of  employment. 
When  gaunt  famine  intrudes  upon  their  household,  it  is 
but  natural  that  they  should  inquire  the  cause.  Hunger 
began  the  French  Revolution." 

Virginia  did  not  read  this  editorial,  because  it  appeared 
in  that  abhorred  organ  of  the  Mudsills,  the  Missouri 
Democrat.  The  wheels  of  fortune  were  turning  rapidly 
that  first  hot  summer  of  the  war  time.  Let  us  be  thank 
ful  that  our  flesh  and  blood  are  incapable  of  the  fury  of 
the  guillotine.  But  when  we  think  calmly  of  those  days, 
can  we  escape  without  a  little  pity  for  the  aristocrats? 
Do  you  think  that  many  of  them  did  not  know  hunger 
and  want  long  before  that  cruel  war  was  over  ? 

How  bravely  they  met  the  grim  spectre  which  crept  so 
insidiously  into  their  homes  ! 

"  Virginia,  child,"  said  Mrs.  Colfax,  peevishly,  one  morn 
ing  as  they  sat  at  breakfast,  "why  do  you  persist  in 
wearing  that  old  gown  ?  It  has  gotten  on  my  nerves,  my 
dear.  You  really  must  have  something  new  made,  even 
if  there  are  no  men  here  to  dress  for." 

"  Aunt  Lillian,  you  must  not  say  such  things.  I  do 
not  think  that  I  ever  dressed  to  please  men." 

"  Tut,  tut,  my  dear,  we  all  do.  I  did,  even  after  I 
married  your  uncle.  It  is  natural.  We  must  not  go 
shabby  in  such  times  as  these,  or  be  out  of  fashion.  Did 
you  know  that  Prince  Napoleon  was  actually  coming 

352 


NEWS   FROM   CLARENCE  353 

here  for  a   visit  this  autumn  ?     We  must  be  ready  for 
him.     I  am  having  a  fitting  at  Miss  Elder's  to-day." 

Virginia  was  learning  patience.  She  did  not  reply  as 
she  poured  out  her  aunt's  coffee. 

"  Jinny,"  said  that  lady,  "  come  with  me  to  Elder's,  and 
I  will  give  you  some  gowns.  If  Comyn  had  been  as  careful 
of  his  own  money  as  of  mine,  you  could  dress  decently." 

"  I  think  I  do  dress  decently,  Aunt  Lillian,"  answered 
the  girl.  "  I  do  not  need  the  gowns.  Give  me  the  money 
you  intend  to  pay  for  them,  and  I  can  use  it  for  a  better 
purpose." 

Mrs.  Colfax  arranged  her  lace  pettishly. 

" 1  am  sick  and  tired  of  this  superiority,  Jinny."  And 
in  the  same  breath.  "  What  would  you  do  with  it?" 

Virginia  lowered  her  voice.  "  Hodges  goes  through  the 
lines  to-morrow  night.  I  should  send  it  to  Clarence." 

"  Biit  you  have  no  idea  where  Clarence  is." 

"  Hodges  can  find  him." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  exclaimed  her  aunt,  "  T  would  not  trust 
him.  How  do  you  know  that  he  will  get  through  the 
Dutch  pickets  to  Price's  army?  Wasn't  Souther  cap 
tured  last  week,  and  that  rash  letter  of  Puss  Russell's 
to  Jack  Brinsmade  published  in  the  Democrat?"  She 
laughed  at  the  recollection,  and  Virginia  was  fain  to 
laugh  too.  "  Puss  hasn't  been  around  much  since.  I 
hope  that  will  cure  her  of  saying  what  she  thinks  of 
people." 

u  It  won't,"  said  Virginia. 

"I'll  save  my  money  until  Price  drives  the  Yankees 
from  the  state,  and  Clarence  marches  into  the  city  at  the 
head  of  a  regiment,"  Mrs.  Colfax  went  on.  "  It  won't  be 
long  now." 

Virginia's  eyes  flashed. 

"  Oh,  you  can't  have  read  the  papers  !  And  don't  you 
remember  the  letter  Maude  had  from  George  ?  They 
need  the  bare  necessities  of  life,  Aunt  Lillian.  And  half 
of  Price's  men  have  no  arms  at  all." 

"  Jackson,"  said  Mrs.  Colfax,  "  bring  me  a  newspaper. 
Is  there  any  news  to-day  ?  " 
2  A 


354  THE  CRISIS 

"  No,"  answered  Virginia,  quickly.  "  All  we  know  is 
that  Lyon  has  left  Springfield  to  meet  our  troops,  and 
that  a  great  battle  is  coming.  Perhaps  —  perhaps  it  is 
being  fought  to-day." 

Mrs.  Colfax  burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,  Jinny,"  she  cried,  "  how  can  you  be  so  cruel !  " 

That  very  evening  a  man,  tall  and  lean,  but  with  the 
shrewd  and  kindly  eye  of  a  scout,  came  into  the  sitting- 
room  with  the  Colonel  and  handed  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Colfax. 
In  the  hall  he  slipped  into  Virginia's  hand  another,  in  a 
"  Jefferson  Davis "  envelope,  and  she  thrust  it  in  her 
gown  —  the  girl  was  on  fire  as  he  whispered  in  her  ear 
that  he  had  seen  Clarence,  and  that  he  was  well.  In  two 
days  an  answer  might  be  left  at  Mr.  Russell's  house.  But 
she  must  be  careful  what  she  wrote,  as  the  Yankee  scouts 
were  active. 

Clarence,  indeed,  had  proven  himself  a  man.  Glory 
and  uniform  became  him  well,  but  danger  and  depriva 
tion  better.  The  words  he  had  written,  careless  and 
frank  and  boyish,  made  Virginia's  heart  leap  with  pride. 
Mrs.  Colfax's  letter  began  with  the  adventure  below  the 
Arsenal,  when  the  frail  skiff  had  sunk  near  the  island. 
He  told  how  he  had  heard  the  captain  of  his  escort  sing 
out  to  him  in  the  darkness,  and  how  he  had  floated  down 
the  current  instead,  until,  chilled  and  weary,  he  had  con 
trived  to  seize  the  branches  of  a  huge  tree  floating  by. 
And  how  by  a  miracle  the  moon  had  risen.  When  the 
great  Memphis  packet  bore  down  upon  him,  he  had  been 
seen  from  her  guards,  and  rescued  and  made  much  of  ; 
and  set  ashore  at  the  next  landing,  for  fear  her  captain 
would  get  into  trouble.  In  the  morning  he  had  walked 
into  the  country,  first  providing  himself  with  butternuts 
and  rawhide  boots  and  a  bowie-knife.  Virginia  would 
never  have  recognized  her  dashing  captain  of  dragoons  in 
this  guise. 

The  letter  was  long  for  Clarence,  and  written  under 
great  difficulties  from  date  to  date.  For  nearly  a  month 
he  had  tramped  over  mountains  and  across  river  bottoms, 
waiting  for  news  of  an  organized  force  of  resistance  in 


NEWS  FROM  CLARENCE  355 

Missouri.  Begging  his  way  from  cabin  to  cabin,  and 
living  on  greasy  bacon  and  corn  pone,  at  length  he 
crossed  the  swift  Gasconade  (so  named  by  the  French 
settlers  because  of  its  brawling  ways)  where  the  bridge  of 
the  Pacific  railroad  had  been  blown  up  by  the  Governor's 
orders.  Then  he  learned  that  the  untiring  Lyon  had 
steamed  up  the  Missouri  and  had  taken  possession  of  Jef 
ferson  City  without  a  blow,  and  that  the  ragged  rebel 
force  had  fought  and  lost  at  Booneville.  Footsore,  but 
undaunted,  he  pushed  on  to  join  the  army,  which  he  heard 
was  retreating  southward  along  the  western  tier  of  coun 
ties  of  the  state. 

On  the  banks  of  the  Osage  he  fell  in  with  two  other 
young  men  in  as  bad  a  plight  as  himself.  They  travelled 
together,  until  one  day  some  rough  farmers  with  shotguns 
leaped  out  of  a  bunch  of  willows  on  the  borders  of  a  creek 
and  arrested  all  three  for  Union  spies.  And  they  laughed 
when  Mr.  Clarence  tried  to  explain  that  he  had  not  long 
since  been  the  dapper  captain  of  the  State  Dragoons. 

His  Excellency,  the  Governor  of  Missouri  (so  acknowl 
edged  by  all  good  Southerners),  likewise  laughed  when 
Mr.  Coif  ax  and  the  two  others  were  brought  before  him. 
His  Excellency  sat  in  a  cabin  surrounded  by  a  camp 
which  had  caused  the  dogs  of  war  to  howl  for  very  shame. 

"  Colfax  !  "  cried  the  Governor.  "  A  Colfax  of  St. 
Louis  in  butternuts  and  rawhide  boots  ?  " 

"  Give  me  a  razor,"  demanded  Clarence,  with  indigna 
tion,  "a  razor  and  a  suit  of  clothes,  and  I  will  prove  it." 

The  Governor  laughed  once  more. 

"  A  razor,  young  man  !  A  suit  of  clothes  !  You  know 
not  what  you  ask." 

"  Are  there  any  gentlemen  from  St.  Louis  here  ? " 

George  Catherwood  was  brought  in,  —  or  rather  what 
had  once  been  George.  Now  he  was  a  big  frontiersman 
with  a  huge  blond  beard,  and  a  bowie-knife  stuck  into  his 
trousers  in  place  of  a  sword.  He  recognized  his  young 
captain  of  dragoons ;  the  Governor  apologized,  and  Clar 
ence  slept  that  night  in  the  cabin.  The  next  day  he  was 
given  a  horse,  and  a  bright  new  rifle  which  the  Gov- 


356  THE   CRISIS 

ernor's  soldiers  had  taken  from  the  Dutch  at  Cole  Camp 
on  the  way  south.  And  presently  they  made  a  junction 
with  three  thousand  more  who  were  their  images.  This 
was  Price's  army,  but  Price  had  gone  ahead  into  Kansas 
to  beg  the  great  McCulloch  and  his  Confederates  to  come 
to  their  aid  and  save  the  state. 

"  Dear  mother,  I  wish  that  you  and  Jinny  and  Uncle  Comyn 
could  have  seen  this  country  rabble.  How  you  would  have 
laughed,  and  cried,  because  we  are  just  like  them.  In  the  com 
bined  army  two  thousand  have  only  bowie-knives  or  clubs. 
Some  have  long  rifles  of  Daniel  Boone's  time,  not  tired  for 
thirty  years.  And  the  impedimenta  are  a  sight.  Open  wagons 
and  conestogas  and  carryalls  and  buggies,  and  even  barouches, 
weighted  down  with  frying-pans  and  chairs  and  feather  beds. 
But  we've  got  spirit,  and  we  can  whip  Lyon's  Dutchmen  and 
Yankees  just  as  we  are.  Spirit  is  what  counts,  and  the  Yankees 
haven't  got  it.  I  was  made  to-day  a  Captain  of  Cavalry  under 
Colonel  Rives.  I  ride  a  great,  raw-boned  horse  like  an  elephant. 
He  jolts  me  until  I  am  sore,  —  not  quite  as  easy  as  my  thor 
oughbred,  Jefferson.  Tell  Jinny  to  care  for  him,  and  have 
him  ready  when  we  march  into  St.  Louis." 

"  COWSKIN  PRAIRIE,  9th  July. 

"  We  have  whipped  Sigel  on  the  prairie  by  Coon  Creek  and 
killed  —  we  don't  know  how  many.  Tell  Maude  that  George 
distinguished  himself  in  the  fight.  We  cavalry  did  not  get  a 
chance. 

"  We  have  at  last  met  McCulloch  and  his  real  soldiers.  We 
cheered  until  we  cried  when  we  saw  their  ranks  of  gray,  with 
the  gold  buttons  and  the  gold  braid  and  the  gold  stars.  Gen 
eral  McCulloch  has  taken  me  on  his  staff,  and  promised  me  a 
uniform.  But  how  to  clothe  and  feed  and  arm  our  men !  We 
have  only  a  few  poor  cattle,  and  no  money.  But  our  men  don't 
complain.  We  shall  whip  the  Yankees  before  we  starve." 

For  many  days  Mrs.  Colfax  did  not  cease  to  bewail  the 
hardship  which  her  dear  boy  was  forced  to  endure.  He, 
who  was  used  to  linen  sheets  and  eider  down,  was  without 
a  rough  blanket  or  shelter ;  who  was  used  to  the  best  table 
in  the  state,  was  reduced  to  husks. 

"  But,  Aunt  Lillian,"  cried  Virginia,  "  he  is  fighting  for 


NEWS   FROM   CLARENCE  357 

the  South.     If  he  were  fed  and  clothed  like  the  Yankees, 
we  should  not  be  half  so  proud  of  him." 

Why  set  down  for  colder  gaze  the  burning  words  that 
Clarence  wrote  to  Virginia.  How  she  pored  over  that 
letter,  and  folded  it  so  that  even  the  candle-droppings 
would  not  be  creased  and  fall  away !  He  was  happy, 
though  wretched  because  he  could  not  see  her.  It  was 
the  life  he  had  longed  for.  At  last  (and  most  pathetic !) 
he  was  proving  his  usefulness  in  this  world.  He  was  no 
longer  the  mere  idler  whom  she  had  chidden. 

"Jinny,  do  you  remember  saying  so  many  years  ago  that 
our  ruin  would  come  of  our  not  being  able  to  work  ?  How  I 
wish  you  could  see  us  felling  trees  to  make  bullet-moulds,  and 
forging  slugs  for  canister,  and  making  cartridges  at  night  with 
our  bayonets  as  candlesticks.  Jinny  dear,  I  know  that  you 
will  keep  up  your  courage.  I  can  see  you  sewing  for  us,  I  can 
hear  you  praying  for  us." 

It  was,  in  truth,  how  Virginia  learned  to  sew.  She  had 
always  detested  it.  Her  fingers  were  pricked  and  sore 
weeks  after  she  began.  Sad  to  relate  that  her  ban 
dages  nor  her  shirts  nor  her  havelocks  never  reached  the 
front.  Those  havelocks,  to  withstand  the  heat  of  the 
tropic  sun,  which  were  made  in  thousands  by  devoted 
Union  women  that  first  summer  of  the  war,  to  be  ridiculed 
as  nightcaps  by  the  soldiers.  "  Why  should  not  our  sol 
diers  have  them,  too?"  said  Virginia  to  the  Russell  girls. 
They  were  never  so  happy  as  when  sewing  on  them  against 
the  arrival  of  the  Army  of  Liberation,  which  never  came. 

The  long,  long  days  of  heat  dragged  slowly,  with  little 
to  cheer  those  families  separated  from  their  dear  ones  by 
a  great  army.  Clarence  might  die,  and  a  month  —  per 
haps  a  year  —  pass  without  news,  unless  he  were  brought 
a  prisoner  to  St.  Louis.  How  Virginia  envied  Maude 
because  the  Union  lists  of  dead  and  wounded  would  give 
her  tidings  of  her  brother  Tom,  at  least !  How  she  cov 
eted  the  many  Union  families,  whose  sons  and  brothers 
were  at  the  front,  this  privilege  ! 

We  were  speaking  of  the  French  Revolution,  when,  as 


858  THE  CRISIS 

Balzac  remarked,  to  be  a  spy  was  to  be  a  patriot.  Heads 
are  not  so  cheap  in  our  Anglo-Saxon  countries ;  passions 
not  so  fierce  and  uncontrollable.  Compare,  with  a  promi 
nent  historian,  our  Boston  Massacre  and  St.  Bartholomew. 
They  are  both  massacres.  Compare  Camp  Jackson,  or  Bal 
timore,  where  a  few  people  were  shot,  with  some  Paris 
street  scenes  after  the  Bastile.  Feelings  in  each  instance 
never  ran  higher.  Our  own  provost  marshal  was  hissed 
in  the  street,  and  called  "  Robespierre,"  and  yet  he  did  not 
fear  the  assassin's  knife.  Our  own  Southern  aristocrats 
were  hemmed  in  in  a  Union  city  (their  own  city).  No 
women  were  thrown  into  prison,  it  is  true.  Yet  one  was 
not  permitted  to  shout  for  Jeff  Davis  on  the  street  corner 
before  the  provost's  guard.  Once  in  a  while  a  detach 
ment  of  the  Home  Guards,  commanded  by  a  lieutenant, 
would  march  swiftly  into  a  street  and  stop  before  a  house, 
whose  occupants  would  run  to  the  rear,  only  to  encounter 
another  detachment  in  the  alley. 

One  day,  in  great  excitement,  Eugenie  Renault  rang  the 
bell  of  the  Carvel  house,  and  ran  past  the  astounded  Jack 
son  up  the  stairs  to  Virginia's  room,  the  door  of  which  she 
burst  open. 

"  Oh,  Jinny !  "  she  cried,  "  Puss  Russell's  house  is  sur 
rounded  by  Yankees,  and  Puss  and  Emily  and  all  the 
family  are  prisoners!  " 

"Prisoners!  What  for?"  said  Virginia,  dropping  in 
her  excitement  her  last  year's  bonnet,  which  she  was  trim 
ming  with  red,  white,  and  red. 

"Because,"  said  Eugenie,  sputtering  with  indignation, 
"because  they  waved  at  some  of  our  poor  fellows  who 
were  being  taken  to  the  slave  pen.  They  were  being 
marched  past  Mr.  Russell's  house  under  guard  —  Puss  had 
a  small  —  " 

"  Confederate  flag,"  put  in  Virginia,  smiling  in  spite  of 
herself. 

"  And  she  waved  it  between  the  shutters,"  Eugenie  con 
tinued.  "  And  some  one  told  the  provost  marshal.  He 
has  had  the  house  surrounded,  and  the  family  have  to  stay 
there." 


NEWS   FROM   CLARENCE  359 

"  But  if  the  food  gives  out  ?  " 

"  Then,"  said  Miss  Renault,  in  a  voice  of  awe,  "  then 
each  one  of  the  family  is  to  have  just  a  common  army 
ration.  They  are  to  be  treated  as  prisoners." 

"Oh,  those  Yankees  are  detestable !"  exclaimed  Virginia. 
"  But  they  shall  pay  for  it.  As  soon  as  our  army  is  organ 
ized  and  equipped,  they  shall  pay  for  it  ten  times  over." 
She  tried  on  the  bonnet,  conspicuous  with  its  red  and  white 
ribbons,  before  the  glass.  Then  she  ran  to  the  closet  and 
drew  forth  the  white  gown  with  its  red  trimmings.  "  Wait 
for  me,  Genie,"  she  said,  "and  we'll  go  down  to  Puss's 
house  together.  It  may  cheer  her  to  see  us." 

"  But  not  in  that  dress,"  said  Eugenie,  aghast.  "  They 
will  arrest  you." 

"  Oh,  how  I  wish  they  would !  "  cried  Virginia.  And  her 
eyes  flashed  so  that  Eugenie  was  frightened.  "  How  I  wish 
they  would ! " 

Miss  Renault  regarded  her  friend  with  something  of  ad 
oration  from  beneath  her  black  lashes.  It  was  about  five  in 
the  afternoon  when  they  started  out  together  under  Vir 
ginia's  white  parasol,  Eugenie's  slimmer  courage  upheld  by 
her  friend's  bearing.  We  must  remember  that  Virginia 
was  young,  and  that  her  feelings  were  akin  to  those  our 
great-grandmothers  experienced  when  the  British  held  New 
York.  It  was  as  if  she  had  been  born  to  wear  the  red  and 
white  of  the  South.  Elderly  gentlemen  of  Northern  per 
suasion  paused  in  their  homeward  walk  to  smile  in  admira 
tion, —  some  sadly,  as  Mr.  Brinsmade.  Young  gentlemen 
found  an  excuse  to  retrace  their  steps  a  block  or  two.  But 
Virginia  walked  on  air,  and  saw  nothing.  She  was  between 
fierce  anger  and  exaltation.  She  did  not  deign  to  drop  her 
eyes  as  low  as  the  citizen  sergeant  and  guard  in  front  of 
Puss  Russell's  house  (these  men  were  only  human,  after 
all);  she  did  not  so  much  as  glance  at  the  curious  people 
standing  on  the  corner,  who  could  not  resist  a  murmur  of 
delight.  The  citizen  sergeant  only  smiled,  and  made  no 
move  to  arrest  the  young  lady  in  red  and  white.  Nor  did 
Puss  fling  open  the  blinds  and  wave  at  her. 

"  I  suppose  it's  because  Mr.  Russell  won't  let  her,"  said 


360  THE   CRISIS 

Virginia,  disconsolately.  "  Genie,  let's  go  to  headquar 
ters,  and  show  this  Yankee  General  Fremont  that  we  are 
not  afraid  of  him." 

Eugenie's  breath  was  taken  away  by  the  very  boldness  of 
this  proposition.  She  looked  up  timidly  into  Virginia's 
face,  and  hero-worship  got  the  better  of  prudence. 

The  house  which  General  Fremont  appropriated  for  his 
use  when  he  came  back  from  Europe  to  assume  command 
in  the  West  was  not  a  modest  one.  It  still  stands,  a  large 
mansion  of  brick  with  a  stone  front,  very  tall  and  very 
wide,  with  an  elaborate  cornice  and  plate-glass  windows, 
both  tall  and  broad,  and  a  high  basement.  Two  stately 
stone  porches  capped  by  elaborate  iron  railings  adorn  it  in 
front  and  on  the  side.  The  chimneys  are  generous  and 
proportional.  In  short,  the  house  is  of  that  type  built  by 
many  wealthy  gentlemen  in  the  middle  of  the  century, 
which  has  best  stood  the  test  of  time,  —  the  only  type 
which,  if  repeated  to-day,  would  not  clash  with  the  archi 
tectural  education  which  we  are  receiving.  A  spacious 
yard  well  above  the  pavement  surrounds  it,  sustained  by 
a  wall  of  dressed  stones,  capped  by  an  iron  fence.  The 
whole  expressed  wealth,  security,  solidity,  conservatism. 

Alas,  that  the  coal  deposits  under  the  black  mud  of  our 
Western  states  should,  at  length,  have  driven  the  owners 
of  these  houses  out  of  them!  They  are  now  blackened, 
almost  buried  in  soot;  empty,  or  half-tenanted  by  board 
ers.  Descendants  of  the  old  families  pass  them  on  their 
way  to  business  or  to  the  theatre  with  a  sigh.  The  sons 
of  those  who  owned  them  have  built  westward,  and  west 
ward  again,  until  now  they  are  six  miles  from  the  river. 

On  that  summer  evening  forty  years  ago,  when  Vir 
ginia  and  Eugenie  came  in  sight  of  the  house,  a  scene  of 
great  animation  was  before  them.  Talk  was  rife  over 
the  commanding  general's  pomp  and  circumstance.  He 
had  just  returned  from  Europe,  where  pomp  and  circum 
stance  and  the  military  were  wedded.  Foreign  officers 
should  come  to  America  to  teach  our  army  dress  and 
manners.  A  dashing  Hungarian  commanded  the  gen 
eral's  body-guard,  which  honorable  corps  was  even  then 


NEWS   FROM   CLARENCE  361 

drawn  up  in  the  street  before  the  house,  surrounded  at  a 
respectable  distance  by  a  crowd  that  feared  to  jest.  They 
felt  like  it  save  when  they  caught  the  stern  military  e}^e 
of  the  Hungarian  captain.  Virginia  gazed  at  the  glitter 
ing  uniforms,  resplendent  in  the  sun,  and  at  the  sleek  and 
well-fed  horses,  and  scalding  tears  came  as  she  thought 
of  the  half-starved  rabble  of  Southern  patriots  on  the 
burning  prairies.  Just  then  a  sharp  command  escaped  in 
broken  English  from  the  Hungarian.  The  people  in  the 
yard  of  the  mansion  parted,  and  the  General  himself 
walked  proudly  out  of  the  gate  to  the  curb,  where  his 
charger  was  pawing  the  gutter.  As  he  put  foot  to  the 
stirrup,  the  eye  of  the  great  man  (once  candidate,  and 
again  to  be,  for  President)  caught  the  glint  of  red  and 
white  on  the  corner.  For  an  instant  he  stood  transfixed 
to  the  spot,  with  one  leg  in  the  air.  Then  he  took  it 
down  again  and  spoke  to  a  young  officer  of  his  staff,  who 
smiled  and  began  to  walk  toward  them.  Little  Eugenie's 
knees  trembled.  She  seized  Virginia's  arm,  and  whis 
pered  in  agony  :  — 

"  Oh,  Jinny,  you  are  to  be  arrested,  after  all.  Oh,  I 
wish  you  hadn't  been  so  bold  !  " 

"Hush!"  said  Virginia,  as  she  prepared  to  slay  the 
young  officer  with  a  look.  She  felt  like  flying  at  his 
throat,  and  choking  him  for  the  insolence  of  that  smile. 
How  dare  he  march  undaunted  to  within  six  paces  of 
those  eyes  ?  The  crowd  drew  back.  But  did  Miss  Car 
vel  retreat  ?  Not  a  step.  "  Oh,  I  hope  he  will  arrest 
me,"  she  said  passionately,  to  Eugenie.  "  He  will  start  a 
conflagration  beyond  the  power  of  any  Yankee  to  quell." 

But  hush  !  he  was  speaking.  "  You  are  my  prisoners  "  ? 
No,  those  were  not  the  words,  surely.  The  lieutenant 
had  taken  off  his  cap.  He  bowed  very  low  and  said : 
"•  Ladies,  the  General's  compliments,  and  he  begs  that 
this  much  of  the  sidewalk  may  be  kept  clear  for  a  few 
moments." 

What  was  left  for  them,  after  that,  save  a  retreat  ?  But 
it  was  not  precipitate.  Miss  Virginia  crossed  the  street 
with  a  dignity  and  bearing  which  drew  even  the  eyes  of 


362  THE   CRISIS 

the  body-guard  to  one  side.  And  there  she  stood  haugh 
tily  until  the  guard  and  the  General  had  thundered  away. 

A  crowd  of  black-coated  civilians,  and  quartermasters 
and  other  officers  in  uniform,  poured  out  of  the  basement 
of  the  house  into  the  yard.  One  civilian,  a  youngish  man 
a  little  inclined  to  stoutness,  stopped  at  the  gate,  stared, 
then  thrust  some  papers  in  his  pocket  and  hurried  down 
the  side  street.  Three  blocks  thence  he  appeared  abreast 
of  Miss  Carvel.  More  remarkable  still,  he  lifted  his  hat 
clear  of  his  head.  Virginia  drew  back.  Mr.  Hopper, 
with  his  newly  acquired  equanimity  and  poise,  startled 
her. 

"  May  I  have  the  pleasure,"  said  that  gentleman,  "  of 
accompanying  you  home  ?  " 

Eugenie  giggled.  Virginia  was  more  annoyed  than  she 
showed. 

44  You  must  not  come  out  of  your  way,"  she  said.  Then 
she  added  :  "I  am  sure  you  must  go  back  to  the  store. 
It  is  only  six  o'clock." 

Had  Virginia  but  known,  this  occasional  tartness  in 
her  speech  gave  Eliphalet  an  infinite  delight,  even  while 
it  hurt  him.  His  was  a  nature  which  Irked  to  gloat  over 
a  goal  on  the  horizon.  He  cared  not  a  whit  for  sweet 
girls  ;  they  cloyed.  But  a  real  lady  was  something  to 
attain.  He  had  revised  his  vocabulary  for  just  such  an 
occasion,  and  thrown  out  some  of  the  vernacular. 

44  Business  is  not  so  pressing  nowadays,  Miss  Carvel," 
he  answered,  with  a  shade  of  meaning. 

44  Then  existence  must  be  rather  heavy  for  you,"  she 
said.  She  made  no  attempt  to  introduce  him  to  Eugenie. 

44  If  we  should  have  any  more  victories  like  Bull  Run, 
prosperity  will  come  back  with  a  rush,"  said  the  son  of 
Massachusetts.  44  Southern  Confederacy,  with  Missouri 
one  of  its  stars  —  industrial  development  of  the  South  — 
fortunes  in  cotton." 

Virginia  turned  quickly.  "  Oh,  how  dare  you?'*  she 
cried.  44  How  dare  you  speak  flippantly  of  such  things  ?  " 

His  suavity  was  far  from  overthrown. 

44  Flippantly,  Miss  Carvel  ?  "  said   he.     44 1  assure  you 


NEWS  FKOM  CLARENCE  363 

that  I  want  to  see  the  South  win."  What  he  did  not 
know  was  that  words  seldom  convince  women.  But  he 
added  something  which  reduced  her  incredulity  for  the 
time.  "  Do  you  cal'late,"  said  he,  "  that  I  could  work  for 
your  father,  and  wish  ruin  to  his  country  ?  " 

"  But  you  are  a  Yankee  born,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  There  be  a  few  sane  Yankees,"  replied  Mr.  Hopper, 
dryly.  A  remark  which  made  Eugenie  laugh  outright, 
and  Virginia  could  not  refrain  from  a  smile. 

But  much  against  her  will  he  walked  home  with  her. 
She  was  indignant  by  the  time  she  reached  Locust  Street. 
He  had  never  dared  do  such  a  thing  before.  What  had 
got  into  the  man  ?  Was  it  because  he  had  become  a 
manager,  and  governed  the  business  during  her  father's 
frequent  absences  ?  No  matter  what  Mr.  Hopper's  poli 
tics,  he  would  always  be  to  her  a  low-born  Yankee,  a 
person  wholly  unworthy  of  notice. 

At  the  corner  of  Olive  Street,  a  young  man  walking 
with  long  strides  almost  bumped  into  them.  He  paused, 
looked  back,  and  bowed  as  if  uncertain  of  an  acknowledg 
ment.  Virginia  barely  returned  his  bow.  He  had  been 
very  close  to  her,  and  she  had  had  time  to  notice  that  his 
coat  was  threadbare.  When  she  looked  again,  he  had 
covered  half  the  block.  Why  should  she  care  if  Stephen 
Brice  had  seen  her  in  company  with  Mr.  Hopper  ? 

Eliphalet,  too,  had  seen  Stephen,  and  this  had  added 
zest  to  his  enjoyment.  It  was  part  of  the  fruits  of  his 
reward.  He  wished  in  that  short  walk  that  he  might  meet 
Mr.  Cluyme  and  Belle,  and  every  man  and  woman  and 
child  in  the  city  whom  he  knew.  From  time  to  time  he 
glanced  at  the  severe  profile  of  the  aristocrat  beside  him 
(he  had  to  look  up  a  bit,  likewise),  and  that  look  set  him 
down  among  the  beasts  of  prey.  For  she  was  his  rightful 
prey,  and  he  meant  not  to  lose  one  tittle  of  enjoyment  in 
the  progress  of  the  game.  Many  and  many  a  night  in  the 
bare  little  back  room  at  Miss  Crane's  Eliphalet  had  gloated 
over  the  very  event  which  was  now  come  to  pass.  Not  a 
step  of  the  way  but  what  he  had  lived  through  before. 
The  future  is  laid  open  to  such  men  as  he.  Since  he  had 


364  THE   CRISIS 

first  seen  the  black  cloud  of  war  rolling  up  from  the 
South,  a  hundred  times  had  he  rehearsed  the  scene  with 
Colonel  Carvel  which  had  actually  taken  place  a  week 
before.  A  hundred  times  had  he  prepared  his  speech  and 
manner  for  this  first  appearance  in  public  with  Virginia 
after  he  had  forced  the  right  to  walk  in  her  company. 
The  words  he  had  prepared  —  commonplace,  to  be  sure, 
but  carefully  chosen  —  flowed  from  his  lips  in  a  continual 
nasal  stream.  The  girl  answered  absently,  her  feminine 
instinct  groping  after  a  reason  for  it  all.  She  brightened 
when  she  saw  her  father  at  the  door  ;  and,  saying  good- 
by  to  Eugenie,  tripped  up  the  steps,  bowing  to  Eliphalet 
coldly. 

"  Why,  bless  us,  Jinny,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  you  haven't 
been  parading  the  town  in  that  costume  !  You'll  have  us 
in  Lynch's  slave  pen  by  to-morrow  night.  My  land  ! " 
laughed  he,  patting  her  under  the  chin,  "  there's  no  doubt 
about  your  sentiments,  anyhow." 

"  I've  been  over  to  Puss  Russell's  house,"  said  she, 
breathless.  "They've  closed  it  up,  you  know-  '  (He 
nodded.)  "  And  then  we  went  —  Eugenie  and  I,  to  head 
quarters,  just  to  see  what  the  Yankees  would  do." 

The  Colonel's  smile  faded.  He  looked  grave.  "  You 
must  take  care,  honey,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice. 
"  They  suspect  me  now  of  communicating  with  the  Gov 
ernor  and  McCulloch.  Jinny,  it's  all  very  well  to  be 
brave,  and  to  stand  by  your  colors.  But  this  sort  of 
thing,"  said  he,  stroking  the  gown,  "this  sort  of  thing 
doesn't  help  the  South,  my  dear,  and  only  sets  spies  upon 
us.  Ned  tells  me  that  there  was  a  man  in  plain  clothes 
standing  in  the  alley  last  night  for  three  hours." 

"Oh,  Pa,"  cried  the  girl,  "I'm  so  sorry."  Suddenly 
searching  his  face  with  a  swift  instinct,  she  perceived  that 
these  months  had  made  it  yellow  and  lined.  "  Pa,  dear, 
you  must  come  to  Glencoe  to-morrow  and  rest.  You 
must  not  go  off  on  any  more  trips." 

The  Colonel  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  It  isn't  the  trips,  Jinny.  There  are  duties,  my  dear, 
pleasant  duties  —  Jinny  —  " 


NEWS   FROM   CLARENCE  365 

"  Yes  ?  " 

The  Colonel's  eye  had  suddenly  fallen  on  Mr.  Hopper, 
who  was  still  standing  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps.  He 
checked  himself  abruptly  as  Eliphalet  pulled  off  his  hat. 

"  Howdy,  Colonel  ?  "  he  said. 

Virginia  was  motionless,  with  her  back  to  the  intruder. 
She  was  frozen  by  a  presentiment.  As  she  saw  her  father 
start  down  the  steps,  she  yearned  to  throw  herself  in  front 
of  him  —  to  warn  him  of  something,  she  knew  not  what. 
Then  she  heard  the  Colonel's  voice,  courteous  and  kindly 
as  ever.  And  yet  it  broke  a  little  as  he  greeted  his 
visitor. 

"  Won't  —  won't  you  come  in,  Mr.  Hopper  ?  " 

Virginia  started. 

"  I  don't  know  but  what  I  will,  thank  you,  Colonel,"  he 
answered,  easily.  "  I  took  the  liberty  of  walking  home 
with  your  daughter." 

Virginia  fairly  flew  into  the  house  and  up  the  stairs. 
Gaining  her  room,  she  shut  the  door  and  turned  the  key, 
as  though  he  might  pursue  her  there.  The  man's  face 
had  all  at  once  become  a  terror.  She  threw  herself  on  the 
lounge  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  she  saw  it 
still  leering  at  her  with  a  new  confidence.  Presently  she 
grew  calmer ;  rising,  she  put  on  the  plainest  of  her  scanty 
wardrobe,  and  went  down  the  stairs,  all  in  a  strange  trepi 
dation  new  to  her.  She  had  never  been  in  fear  of  a  man 
before.  She  hearkened  over  the  banisters  for  his  voice, 
heard  it,  and  summoned  all  her  courage.  How  cowardly 
she  had  been  to  leave  her  father  alone  with  him  ! 

Eliphalet  stayed  to  tea.  It  mattered  little  to  him  that 
Mrs.  Colfax  ignored  him  as  completely  as  if  his  chair  had 
been  vacant.  He  glanced  at  that  lady  once,  and  smiled,, 
for  he  was  tasting  the  sweets  of  victory.  It  was  Virginia 
who  entertained  him,  and  even  the  Colonel  never  guessed 
what  it  cost  her.  Eliphalet  himself  marvelled  at  her 
change  of  manner,  and  gloated  over  that  likewise.  Not 
a  turn  or  a  quiver  of  the  victim's  pain  is  missed  by  your 
beast  of  prey.  The  Colonel  was  gravely  polite,  but  pre 
occupied.  Had  he  wished  it,  he  could  not  have  been  rude 


366  THE   CRISIS 

to  a  guest.     He  offered  Mr.  Hopper  a  cigar  with  the  same 
air  that  he  would  have  given  it  to  a  governor. 

"  Thank'ee,  Colonel,  I  don't  smoke,"  he  said,  waving  the 
box  away.1 
5       Mrs.  Coif  ax  flung  herself  out  of  the  room. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  Eliphalet  reached  Miss  Crane's, 
and  picked  his  way  up  the  front  steps  where  the  boarders 
were  gathered. 

"  The  war  doesn't  seem  to  make  any  difference  in  your 
business,  Mr.  Hopper,"  his  landlady  remarked ;  "  where 
have  you  been  so  late  ? " 

"  I  happened  round  at  Colonel  Carvel's  this  afternoon, 
cf  and  stayed*  for  tea  with  'em,"  he  answered,  striving  to 
speak  casually.          f 

Miss  Crane  lingered  in  Mrs.  Abner  Reed's  room  later 
7  than  usual  that  night. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   SCOURGE  OF   WAR 

"  VIRGINIA,"  said  Mrs.  Colfax,  the  next  morning  on 
coming  downstairs,  "I  am  going  back  to  Bellegarde  to 
day.  I  really  cannot  put  up  with  such  a  person  as  Comyn 
had  here  to  tea  last  night." 

"  Very  well,  Aunt  Lillian.  At  what  time  shall  I  order 
the  carriage  ?  " 

The  lady  was  surprised.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  she 
had  never  accurately  gauged  the  force  which  Virginia's 
respect  for  her  elders,  and  affection  for  her  aunt  through 
Clarence,  held  in  check.  Only  a  moment  since  Mrs.  Col- 
fax  had  beheld  her  niece.  Now  there  had  arisen  in  front 
of  her  a  tall  person  of  authority,  before  whom  she  deferred 
instinctively.  It  was  not  what  Virginia  said,  for  she 
would  not  stoop  to  tirade.  Mrs.  Colfax  sank  into  a  chair, 
seeing  only  the  blurred  lines  of  a  newspaper  the  girl  had 
thrust  into  her  hand. 

"  What  —  what  is  it  ?  "  she  gasped.     u  I  cannot  read." 

"  There  has  been  a  battle  at  Wilson's  Creek,"  said  Vir 
ginia,  in  an  emotionless  voice.  "  General  Lyon  is  killed, 
for  which  I  suppose  we  should  be  thankful.  More  than 
seven  hundred  of  the  wounded  are  on  their  way  here. 
They  are  bringing  them  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles, 
from  Springfield  to  Rollo,  in  rough  army  wagons,  with 
scarcely  anything  to  eat  or  drink." 

"And  —  Clarence?" 

"  His  name  is  not  there." 

"  Thank  God ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Colfax.  "  Are  the  Yan 
kees  beaten  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Virginia,  coldly.  "  At  what  time  shall  I 
order  the  carriage  to  take  you  to  Bellegarde?" 

367 


368  THE   CRISIS 

Mrs.  Colfax  leaned  forward  and  caught  the  hem  of  her 
niece's  gown.  "  Oh,  let  me  stay,"  she  cried,  "let  me  stay. 
Clarence  may  be  with  them." 

Virginia  looked  down  at  her  without  pity. 

"  As  you  please,  Aunt  Lillian,"  she  answered.  "  You 
know  that  you  may  always  stay  here.  I  only  beg  of  you 
one  thing,  that  when  you  have  anything  to  complain  of, 
you  will  bring  it  to  me,  and  not  mention  it  before  Pa.  He 
has  enough  to  worry  him." 

"  Oh,  Jinny,"  sobbed  the  lady,  in  tears  again,  "  how  can 
you  be  so  cruel  at  such  a  time,  when  my  nerves  are  all  in 
pieces  ?  " 

But  she  did  not  lift  her  voice  at  dinner,  which  was  very 
poor  indeed  for  Colonel  Carvel's  house.  All  day  long 
Virginia,  assisted  by  Uncle  Ben  and  Aunt  Easter,  toiled 
in  the  stifling  kitchen,  preparing  dainties  which  she  had 
long  denied  herself.  At  evening  she  went  to  the  station 
at  Fourteenth  Street  with  her  father,  and  stood  amongst 
the  people,  pressed  back  by  the  soldiers,  until  the  trains 
came  in.  Alas,  the  heavy  basket  which  the  Colonel  car 
ried  on  his  arm  was  brought  home  again.  The  first  hun 
dred  to  arrive,  ten  hours  in  a  hot  car  without  food  or 
water,  were  laid  groaning  on  the  bottom  of  great  furni 
ture  vans,  and  carted  to  the  new  House  of  Refuge  Hospi 
tal,  two  miles  to  the  south  of  the  city. 

The  next  day  many  good  women  went  there,  Rebel  and 
Union  alike,  to  have  their  hearts  wrung.  The  new  and 
cheap  building  standing  in  the  hot  sun  reeked  with  white 
wash  and  paint.  The  miserable  men  lay  on  the  hard  floor, 
still  in  the  matted  clothes  they  had  worn  in  battle.  Those 
were  the  first  days  of  the  war,  when  the  wages  of  our  pas 
sions  first  came  to  appal  us.  Many  of  the  wounds  had  not 
been  tended  since  they  were  dressed  on  the  field  weeks 
before. 

Mrs.  Colfax  went  too,  with  the  Colonel  and  her  niece, 
although  she  declared  repeatedly  that  she  could  not  go 
through  with  such  an  ordeal.  She  spoke  the  truth,  for 
Mr.  Carvel  had  to  assist  her  to  the  waiting-room.  Then 
he  went  back  to  the  improvised  wards  to  find  Virginia 


THE   SCOURGE   OF  WAR,  369 

busy  over  a  gaunt  Arkansan  of  Price's  army,  whose  pitiful, 
fever-glazed  eyes  were  following  her  every  motion.  His 
frontiersman's  clothes,  stained  with  blackened  blood,  hung 
limp  over  his  wasted  body.  At  Virginia's  bidding  the 
Colonel  ran  downstairs  for  a  bucket  of  fresh  water,  and 
she  washed  the  caked  dust  from  his  face  and  hands.  It 
was  Mr.  Brinsmade  who  got  the  surgeon  to  dress  the  man's 
wound,  and  to  prescribe  some  of  the  broth  from  Virginia's 
basket.  For  the  first  time  since  the  war  began  something 
of  happiness  entered  her  breast. 

It  was  Mr.  Brinsmade  who  was  everywhere  that  day, 
answering  the  questions  of  distracted  mothers  and  fathers 
and  sisters  who  thronged  the  place ;  consulting  with  the 
surgeons ;  helping  the  few  who  knew  how  to  work  in 
placing  mattresses  under  the  worst  cases ;  or  again  he 
might  have  been  seen  seated  on  the  bare  floor  with  a  pad 
on  his  knee,  taking  down  the  names  of  dear  ones  in  distant 
states,  —  that  he  might  spend  his  night  writing  to  them. 

They  put  a  mattress  under  the  Arkansan.  Virginia  did 
not  leave  him  until  he  had  fallen  asleep,  and  a  smile  of 
peace  was  come  upon  his  sunken  face.  Dismayed  at  the 
fearful  sights  about  her,  awed  by  the  groans  that  rose  on 
every  side,  she  was  choosing  her  way  swiftly  down  the 
room  to  join  her  father  and  aunt  in  the  carriage  below. 
The  panic  of  flight  had  seized  her.  She  felt  that  another 
little  while  in  this  heated,  horrible  place  would  drive  her 
mad.  She  was  almost  at  the  door  when  she  came  sud 
denly  upon  a  sight  that  made  her  pause. 

An  elderly  lady  in  widow's  black  was  kneeling  beside 
a  man  groaning  in  mortal  agony,  fanning  away  the  flies 
already  gathering  about  his  face.  He  wore  the  uniform 
of  a  Union  sergeant,  —  dusty  and  splotched  and  torn.  A 
small  Testament  was  clasped  convulsively  in  the  fingers 
of  his  right  hand.  The  left  sleeve  was  empty.  Virginia 
lingered,  whelmed  in  pity,  thrilled  by  a  wonderful  woman 
liness  of  her  who  knelt  there.  Her  face  the  girl  had  not 
even  seen,  for  it  was  bent  over  the  man.  The  sweetness 
of  her  voice  held  Virginia  as  in  a  spell,  and  the  sergeant 
stopped  groaning  that  he  might  listen. 

2B 


370  THE   CRISIS 

"You  have  a  wife ? " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"And  a  child?" 

The  answer  came  so  painfully. 

"  A  boy,  ma'am — born  the  week — before  I  came — away." 

"  I  shall  write  to  your  wife,"  said  the  lady,  so  gently  that 
Virginia  could  scarce  hear,  "and  tell  her  that  you  are 
cared  for.  Where  does  she  live?" 

He  gave  the  address  faintly  —  some  little  town  in  Min 
nesota.  Then  he  added,  "  God  bless  you,  lady." 

Just  then  the  chief  surgeon  came  and  stood  over  them. 
The  lady  turned  her  face  up  to  him,  and  tears  sparkled  in 
her  eyes.  Virginia  felt  them  wet  in  her  own.  Her  wor 
ship  was  not  given  to  many.  Nobility,  character,  effi 
ciency, —  all  were  written  on  that  face.  Nobility  spoke  in 
the  large  features,  in  the  generous  mouth,  in  the  calm,  gray 
eyes.  Virginia  had  seen  her  often  before,  but  not  until 
now  was  the  woman  revealed  to  her. 

"Doctor,  could  this  man's  life  be  saved  if  I  took  him  to 
my  home?" 

The  surgeon  got  down  beside  her  and  took  the  man's 
pulse.  The  eyes  closed.  For  a  while  the  doctor  knelt 
there,  shaking  his  head.  "  He  has  fainted,"  he  said. 

"  Do  you  think  he  can  be  saved?  "  asked  the  lady  again. 

The  surgeon  smiled,  —  such  a  smile  as  a  good  man  gives 
after  eighteen  hours  of  amputating,  of  bandaging,  of  advis 
ing,  —  work  which  requires  a  firm  hand,  a  clear  eye  and 
brain,  and  a  good  heart. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Brice,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  get 
vou  permission  to  take  him,  but  we  must  first  make  him 
worth  the  taking.  Another  hour  would  have  been  too 
late."  He  glanced  hurriedly  about  the  busy  room,  and  then 
added,  "  We  must  have  one  more  to  help  us." 

Just  then  some  one  touched  Virginia's  arm.  It  was  her 
father. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  must  go,  dear,"  he  said ;  "  your  aunt  is 
getting  impatient." 

"Won't  you  please  go  without  me,  Pa?"  she  asked. 
"  Perhaps  I  can  be  of  some  use." 


THE   SCOURGE  OF  WAR  371 

The  Colonel  cast  a  wondering  glance  at  the  limp  uniform, 
and  went  away.  The  surgeon,  who  knew  the  Carvel 
family,  gave  Virginia  a  look  of  astonishment.  It  was  Mrs. 
Brice's  searching  gaze  that  brought  the  color  to  the  girl's 
face. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  she  said  simply. 

As  soon  as  he  could  get  his  sister-in-law  off  to  Locust 
Street  in  the  carriage,  Colonel  Carvel  came  back.  For  two 
reeking  hours  he  stood  against  the  newly  plastered  wall. 
Even  he  was  surprised  at  the  fortitude  and  skill  Virginia 
showed  from  the  very  first,  when  she  had  deftly  cut  away 
the  stiffened  blue  cloth,  and  helped  to  take  off  the  rough 
bandages.  At  length  the  fearful  operation  was  finished. 
And  the  weary  surgeon,  gathering  up  his  box,  expressed 
with  all  the  energy  left  to  him,  his  thanks  to  the  two 
ladies. 

Virginia  stood  up,  faint  and  dizzy.  The  work  of  her 
hands  had  sustained  her  while  it  lasted,  but  now  the  ordeal 
was  come.  She  went  down  the  stairs  on  her  father's  arm, 
and  out  into  the  air.  All  at  once  she  knew  that  Mrs. 
Brice  was  beside  her,  and  had  taken  her  by  the  hand. 

"  My  .dear,"  she  was  saying,  "  God  will  reward  you  for 
this  act.  You  have  taught  many  of  us  to-day  a  lesson  we 
should  have  learned  in  our  Bibles." 

Virginia  trembled  with  many  emotions,  but  she  an 
swered  nothing.  The  mere  presence  of  this  woman  had 
a  strange  effect  upon  the  girl,  —  she  was  filled  with  a 
longing  unutterable.  It  was  not  because  Margaret  Brice 
was  the  mother  of  him  whose  life  had  been  so  strangely 
blended  with  hers  —  whom  she  saw  in  her  dreams.  And 
yet  now  some  of  Stephen's  traits  seemed  to  come  to  her 
understanding,  as  by  a  revelation.  Virginia  had  labored 
through  the  heat  of  the  day  by  Margaret  Brice's  side  — 
doing  His  work,  which  levels  all  feuds  and  makes  all 
women  sisters.  One  brief  second  had  been  needful  for 
the  spell. 

The  Colonel  bowed  with  that  courtesy  and  respect 
which  distinguished  him,  and  Mrs.  Brice  left  them  to  go 
back  into  the  room  of  torment,  and  watch  by  the  ser- 


372  THE  CRISIS 

geant's  pallet.  Virginia's  eyes  followed  her  up  the  stairs, 
and  then  she  and  her  father  walked  slowly  to  the  carriage. 
With  her  foot  oa  the  step  Virginia  paused. 

"  Pa,"  she  said,  "  do  you  think  it  would  be  possible  to 
get  them  to  let  us  take  that  Arkansan  into  our  house  ?  " 

"  Why,  honey,  I'll  ask  Brinsmade  if  you  like,"  said  the 
Colonel.  "  Here  he  comes  now,  and  Anne." 

It  was  Virginia  who  put  the  question  to  him. 

"  My  dear,"  replied  that  gentleman,  patting  her,  "  I 
would  do  anything  in  the  world  for  you.  I'll  see  Gen 
eral  Frdmont  this  very  afternoon.  Virginia,"  he  added, 
soberly,  "  it  is  such  acts  as  yours  to-day  that  give  us  courage 
to  live  in  these  times." 

Anne  kissed  her  friend. 

"  Oh,  Jinny,  I  saw  what  you  were  doing  for  one  of  our 
men.  What  am  I  saying  ?  "  she  cried.  "  They  are  your 
men,  too.  This  horrible  war  cannot  last.  It  cannot  last." 

It  was  well  that  Virginia  did  not  see  the  smile  on  the 
face  of  the  commanding  general  when  Mr.  Brinsmade  at 
length  got  to  him  with  her  request.  This  was  before  the 
days  when  the  wounded  arrived  by  the  thousands,  when 
the  zeal  of  the  Southern  ladies  threatened  to  throw  out  of 
gear  the  workings  of  a  great  system.  But  the  General 
had  had  his  eye  on  Mr.  Carvel  from  the  first.  Therefore 
he  smiled. 

"  Colonel  Carvel,"  said  Mr.  Brinsmade,  with  dignity, 
"  is  a  gentleman.  When  he  gives  his  word,  it  is  sacred, 
sir." 

"Even  to  an  enemy,"  the  General  put  in.  "By 
George,  Brinsmade,  unless  I  knew  you,  I  should  think  that 
you  were  half  rebel  yourself.  Well,  well,  he  may  have 
his  Arkansan." 

Mr.  Brinsmade,  when  he  conveyed  the  news  to  the  Carvel 
house,  did  not  say  that  he  had  wasted  a  precious  afternoon 
in  the  attempt  to  interview  his  Excellency,  the  Commander- 
in-chief.  It  was  like  obtaining  an  audience  with  the  Sultan 
or  the  Czar.  Citizens  who  had  been  prominent  in  affairs 
for  twenty  years,  philanthropists  and  patriotic-spirited  men 
like  Mr.  Brinsmade,  the  mayor,  and  all  the  ex-mayors  mopped 


THE   SCOURGE  OF  WAR  373 

their  brows  in  one  of  the  general's  anterooms  of  the  big 
mansion,  and  wrangled  with  beardless  youths  in  bright 
uniforms  who  were  part  of  the  chain.  The  General  might 
have  been  a  Richelieu,  a  Marlborough.  His  European 
notions  of  uniformed  inaccessibility  he  carried  out  to  the 
letter.  He  was  a  royal  personage,  seldom  seen,  who  went 
abroad  in  the  midst  of  a  glittering  guard.  It  did  not  seem 
to  weigh  with  his  Excellency  that  these  simple  and  demo 
cratic  gentlemen  would  not  put  up  with  this  sort  of  thing. 
That  they  who  had  saved  the  city  to  the  Union  were  more 
or  less  in  communication  with  a  simple  and  democratic 
President;  that  in  all  their  lives  they  had  never  been  in 
the  habit  of  sitting  idly  for  two  hours  to  mop  their  brows. 

On  the  other  hand,  once  you  got  beyond  the  gold  lace 
and  the  etiquette,  you  discovered  a  good  man  and  a  patriot. 
It  was  far  from  being  the  General's  fault  that  Mr.  Hopper 
and  others  made  money  in  mules  and  worthless  army  blan 
kets.  Such  things  always  have  been,  and  always  will  be 
unavoidable  when  this  great  country  of  ours  rises  from  the 
deep  sleep  of  security  into  which  her  sons  have  lulled  her, 
to  demand  her  sword.  We  shall  never  be  able  to  realize 
that  the  maintenance  of  a  standing  army  of  comfortable 
size  will  save  millions  in  the  end.  So  much  for  Democracy 
when  it  becomes  a-  catchword. 

The  General  was  a  good  man,  had  he  done  nothing  else 
than  encourage  the  Western  Sanitary  Commission,  that 
glorious  arnry  of  drilled  men  and  women  who  gave  up  all 
to  relieve  the  suffering  which  the  war  was  causing.  Would 
that  a  novel  —  a  great  novel  —  might  be  written  setting 
forth  with  truth  its  doings.  The  hero  of  it  could  be  Calvin 
Brinsmade,  and  a  nobler  hero  than  he  was  never  under  a 
man's  hand.  For  the  glory  of  generals  fades  beside  his 
glory. 

It  was  Mr.  Brinsmade's  carriage  that  brought  Mrs.  Brice 
home  from  her  trying  day  in  the  hospital.  Stephen,  just 
returned  from  drill  at  Verandah  Hall,  met  her  at  the  door. 
She  would  not  listen  to  his  entreaties  to  rest,  but  in  the 
evening,  as  usual,  took  her  sewing  to  the  porch  behind  the 
house,  where  there  was  a  little  breeze. 


374  THE   CRISIS 

"  Such  a  singular  thing  happened  to-day,  Stephen,"  she 
said.  "  It  was  while  we  were  trying  to  save  the  life  of  a 
poor  sergeant  who  had  lost  his  arm.  I  hope  we  shall  be 
allowed  to  have  him  here.  He  is  suffering  horribly." 

"  What  happened,  mother  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  was  soon  after  I  had  come  upon  this  poor  fellow," 
she  said.  "I  saw  the  —  the  flies  around  him.  And  as  I 
got  down  beside  him  to  fan  them  away  I  had  such  a  queer 
sensation.  I  knew  that  some  one  was  standing  behind  me, 
looking  at  me.  Then  Dr.  Allerdyce  came,  and  I  asked 
him  about  the  man,  and  he  said  there  was  a  chance  of  sav 
ing  him  if  we  could  only  get  help.  Then  some  one  spoke 
up,  —  such  a  sweet  voice.  It  was  that  Miss  Carvel,  my 
dear,  with  whom  you  had  such  a  strange  experience  when 
you  bought  Hester,  and  to  whose  party  you  once  went. 
Do  you  remember  that  they  offered  us  their  house  m  Glen- 
coe  when  the  Judge  was  so  ill  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Stephen. 

"She  is  a  wonderful  creature,"  his  mother  continued. 
"  Such  personality,  such  life  !  And  wasn't  it  a  remarkable 
offer  for  a  Southern  woman  to  make?  They  feel  so  bit 
terly,  and  —  and  I  do  not  blame  them."  The  good  lady 
put  down  on  her  lap  the  night-shirt  she  was  making.  "  I 
saw  how  it  happened.  The  girl  was  carried  away  by  her 
pity.  And,  my  dear,  her  capability  astonished  me.  One 
might  have  thought  that  she  had  always  been  a  nurse. 
The  experience  was  a  dreadful  one  for  me  —  what  must  it 
have  been  for  her !  After  the  operation  was  over,  I  fol 
lowed  her  downstairs  to  where  she  was  standing  with  her 
father  in  front  of  the  building,  waiting  for  their  carriage. 
I  felt  that  I  must  say  something  to  her,  for  in  all  my  life 
I  have  never  seen  a  nobler  thing  done.  When  I  saw  her 
there,  I  scarcely  knew  what  to  say.  Words  seemed  so 
inadequate.  It  was  then  three  o'clock,  and  she  had  been 
working  steadily  in  that  place  since  morning.  I  am  sure 
she  could  not  have  borne  it  much  longer:  Sheer  courage 
carried  her  through  it,  I  know,  for  her  hand  trembled  so 
when  I  took  it,  and  she  was  very  pale.  She  usually  has 
color,  I  believe.  Her  father,  the  Colonel,  was  with  her, 


THE   SCOURGE   OF  WAR  375 

and  he  bowed  to  me  with  such  politeness.  He  had  stood 
against  the  wall  all  the  while  we  had  worked,  and  he 
brought  a  mattress  for  us.  I  have  heard  that  his  house  is 
watched,  and  that  they  have  him  under  suspicion  for  com 
municating  with  the  Confederate  leaders."  Mrs.  Brice 
sighed.  "  He  seems  such  a  fine  character.  I  hope  they 
will  not  get  into  any  trouble." 

"  I  hope  not,  mother,"  said  Stephen. 

It  was  two  mornings  later  that  Judge  Whipple  and 
Stephen  drove  to  the  Iron  Mountain  depot,  where  they 
found  a  German  company  of  Home  Guards  drawn  up. 
On  the  long  wooden  platform  under  the  sheds  Stephen 
caught  sight  of  Herr  Korner  and  Herr  Hauptmann  amid  a 
group  of  their  countrymen.  Little  Korner  came  forward  to 
clasp  his  hands.  The  tears  ran  on  his  cheeks,  and  he  could 
not  speak  for  emotion.  Judge  Whipple,  grim  and  silent, 
stood  apart.  But  he  uncovered  his  head  with  the  others 
when  the  train  rolled  in.  Reverently  they  entered  a  car 
where  the  pine  boxes  were  piled  one  on  another,  and  they 
bore  out  the  earthly  remains  of  Lieutenant  Carl  Richter. 

Far  from  the  land  of  his  birth,  among  those  same  oaks 
on  Bloody  Hill  where  brave  Lyon  fell,  he  had  gladly  given 
up  his  life  for  the  new  country  and  the  new  cause  he  had 
made  his  own. 

That  afternoon  in  the  cemetery,  as  the  smoke  of  the  last 
salute  to  a  hero  hung  in  the  flickering  light  and  drifted 
upward  through  the  great  trees,  as  the  still  air  was  yet 
quivering  with  the  notes  of  the  bugle-call  which  is  the 
soldiers'  requiem,  a  tall  figure,  gaunt  and  bent,  stepped  out 
from  behind  the  blue  line  of  the  troops.  It  was  that  of 
Judge  Whipple.  He  carried  in  his  hand  a  wreath  of  white 
roses  —  the  first  of  many  to  be  laid  on  Richter's  grave. 

Poor  Richter !  How  sad  his  life  had  been  !  And  yet 
he  had  not  filled  it  with  sadness.  For  many  a  month, 
and  many  a  year,  Stephen  could  not  look  upon  his  empty 
place  without  a  pang.  He  missed  the  cheery  songs  and 
the  earnest  presence  even  more  than  he  had  thought. 
Carl  Richter,  —  as  his  father  before  him,  —  had  lived  for 


376  THE   CRISIS 

others.  Both  had  sacrificed  their  bodies  for  a  cause.  One 
of  them  might  be  pictured  as  he  trudged  with  Father  Jahn 
from  door  to  door  through  the  Rhine  country,  or  shoulder 
ing  at  sixteen  a  heavy  musket  in  the  Landwehr's  ranks  to 
drive  the  tyrant  Napoleon  from  the  beloved  Fatherland. 
Later,  aged  before  his  time,  his  wife  dead  of  misery,  decrepit 
and  prison-worn  in  the  service  of  a  thankless  country,  his 
hopes  lived  again  in  Carl,  the  swordsman  of  Jena.  Then 
came  the  pitiful  Revolution,  the  sundering  of  all  ties,  the 
elder  man  left  to  drag  out  his  few  weary  days  before  a  shat 
tered  altar.  In  Carl  a  new  aspiration  had  sprung  up,  a  new 
patriotism  stirred.  His,  too,  had  been  the  sacrifice.  Happy 
in  death,  for  he  had  helped  perpetuate  that  great  Union 
which  should  be  for  all  time  the  refuge  of  the  oppressed. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   LIST   OF   SIXTY 

f- 

ONE  chilling  day  in  November,  when  an  icy  rain  was 
falling  on  the  black  mud  of  the  streets,  Virginia  looked  out 
of  the  window.  Her  eye  was  caught  by  two  horses  which 
were  just  skeletons  with  the  skin  stretched  over  them.  One 
had  a  bad  sore  on  his  flank,  and  was  lame.  They  were 
pulling  a  rattle-trap  farm  wagon  with  a  buckled  wheel. 
On  the  seat  a  man,  pallid  and  bent  and  scantily  clad,  was 
holding  the  reins  in  his  feeble  hands,  while  beside  him 
cowered  a  child  of  ten  wrapped  in  a  ragged  blanket.  In 
the  body  of  the  wagon,  lying  on  a  mattress  pressed  down 
in  the  midst  of  broken,  cheap  furniture  and  filthy  kitchen 
ware,  lay  a  gaunt  woman  in  the  rain.  Her  eyes  were 
closed,  and  a  hump  on  the  surface  of  the  dirty  quilt  beside 
her  showed  that  a  child  must  be  there.  From  such  a  pic 
ture  the  girl  fled  in  tears.  But  the  sight  of  it,  and  of  others 
like  it,  haunted  her  for  weeks.  Through  those  last  dreary 
days  of  November,  wretched  families,  which  a  year  since 
had  been  in  health  and  prosperity,  came  to  the  city,  beg 
gars,  with  the  wrecks  of  their  homes.  The  history  of  that 
hideous  pilgrimage  across  a  state  has  never  been  written. 
Still  they  came  by  the  hundred,  those  families.  Some 
brought  little  corpses  to  be  buried.  The  father  of  one, 
hale  and  strong  when  they  started,  died  of  pneumonia  in 
the  public  lodging-house.  The  walls  of  that  house  could 
tell  many  tales  to  wring  the  heart.  So  could  Mr.  Brins- 
made,  did  he  choose  to  speak  of  his  own  charities.  He 
found  time,  between  his  labors  at  the  big  hospital  newly 
founded,  and  his  correspondence,  and  his  journeys  of  love, 
—  between  early  morning  and  midnight,  —  to  give  some 
hours  a  day  to  the  refugees. 

377 


378  THE   CRISIS 

Throughout  December  they  poured  in  on  the  afflicted 
city,  already  overtaxed.  All  the  way  to  Springfield  the 
road  was  lined  with  remains  of  articles  once  dear  —  a 
child's  doll,  a  little  rocking-chair,  a  colored  print  that  had 
hung  in  the  best  room,  a  Bible  text. 

Anne  Brinsmade,  driven  by  Nicodemus,  went  from  house 
to  house  to  solicit  old  clothes,  and  take  them  to  the  crowded 
place  of  detention.  Christmas  was  drawing  near  —  a  sorry 
Christmas,  in  truth.  And  many  of  the  wanderers  were 
unclothed  and  unfed. 

More  battles  had  been  fought ;  factions  had  arisen  among 
Union  men.  Another  general  had  come  to  St.  Louis  to  take 
charge  of  the  Department,  and  the  other  with  his  wondrous 
body-guard  was  gone. 

The  most  serious  problem  confronting  the  new  general 
was  —  how  to  care  for  the  refugees.  A  council  of  citizens 
was  called  at  headquarters,  and  the  verdict  went  forth  in 
the  never-to-be-forgotten  Orders  No.  24.  "  Inasmuch,"  said 
the  General,  "  as  the  Secession  army  had  driven  these  people 
from  their  homes,  Secession  sympathizers  should  be  made 
to  support  them."  He  added  that  the  city  was  unquestion 
ably  full  of  these.  Indignation  was  rife  the  day  that  order 
was  published.  Sixty  prominent  "  disloyalists  "  were  to 
be  chosen  and  assessed  to  make  up  a  sum  of  ten  thousand 
dollars. 

"  They  may  sell  my  house  over  my  head  before  I  will 
pay  a  cent,"  cried  Mr.  Russell.  And  he  meant  it.  This 
was  the  way  the  others  felt.  Who  were  to  be  on  this 
mysterious  list  of  "  Sixty  "  ?  That  was  the  all-absorbing 
question  of  the  town.  It  was  an  easy  matter  to  pick  the 
conspicuous  ones.  Colonel  Carvel  was  sure  to  be  there, 
and  Mr.  Catherwood  and  Mr.  Russell  and  Mr.  James,  and 
Mr.  Worington  the  lawyer.  Mrs.  Addison  Colfax  lived 
for  days  in  a  fermented  state  of  excitement  which  she 
declared  would  break  her  down  ;  and  which,  despite  her 
many  cares  and  worries,  gave  her  niece  not  a  little  amuse 
ment.  For  Virginia  was  human,  and  one  morning  she  went 
to  her  aunt's  room  to  read  this  editorial  from  the  news 
paper  :  — 


THE   LIST   OF   SIXTY  379 

"  For  the  relief  of  many  palpitating  hearts  it  may  be 
well  to  state  that  we  understand  only  two  ladies  are  on 
the  ten  thousand  dollar  list." 

"  Jinny,"  she  cried,  "  how  can  you  be  so  cruel  as  to 
read  me  that,  when  you  know  that  I  am  in  a  state  of  frenzy 
now?  How  does  that  relieve  me  ?  It  makes  it  an  absolute 
certainty  that  Madame  Jules  and  I  will  have  to  pay.  We 
are  the  only  women  of  importance  in  the  city." 

That  afternoon  she  made  good  her  much-uttered  threat, 
and  drove  to  Bellegarde.  Only  the  Colonel  and  Virginia 
and  Mammy  Easter  and  Ned  were  left  in  the  big  house. 
Rosetta  and  Uncle  Ben  and  Jackson  had  been  hired  out, 
and  the  horses  sold,  —  all  save  old  Dick,  who  was  running, 
long-haired,  in  the  fields  at  Glencoe. 

Christmas  eve  was  a  steel-gray  day,  and  the  sleet  froze 
as  it  fell.  Since  morning  Colonel  Carvel  had  sat  poking 
the  sitting-room  fire,  or  pacing  the  floor  restlessly.  His 
occupation  was  gone.  He  was  observed  night  and  day  by 
Federal  detectives.  Virginia  strove  to  amuse  him,  to  con 
ceal  her  anxiety  as  she  watched  him.  Well  she  knew  that 
but  for  her  he  would  long  since  have  fled  southward,  and 
often  in  the  bitterness  of  the  night-time  she  blamed  herself 
for  not  telling  him  to  go.  Ten  years  had  seemed  to  pass 
over  him  since  the  war  had  begun. 

All  day  long  she  had  been  striving  to  put  away  from 
her  the  memory  of  Christmas  eves  past  and  gone  ;  of  her 
father's  early  home-coming  from  the  store,  a  mysterious 
smile  on  his  face ;  of  Captain  Lige  stamping  noisily  into 
the  house,  exchanging  uproarious  jests  with  Ned  and  Jack 
son.  The  Captain  had  always  carried  under  his  arm  a 
shapeless  bundle  which  he  would  confide  to  Ned  with  a 
knowing  wink.  And  then  the  house  would  be  lighted 
from  top  to  bottom,  and  Mr.  Russell  and  Mr.  Catherwood 
and  Mr.  Brinsmade  came  in  for  a  long  evening  with  Mr. 
Carvel  over  great  bowls  of  apple  toddy  and  egg-nog.  And 
Virginia  would  have  her  own  friends  in  the  big  parlor. 
That  parlor  was  shut  up  now,  and  icy  cold. 

Then  there  was  Judge  W hippie,  the  joyous  event  of 
whose  year  was  his  Christmas  dinner  at  Colonel  Carvel's 


380  THE   CRISIS 

house.  Virginia  pictured  him  this  year  at  Mrs.  Brice's 
little  table,  and  wondered  whether  he  would  miss  them  as 
much  as  they  missed  him.  War  may  break  friendships, 
but  it  cannot  take  away  the  sacredness  of  memories. 

The  sombre  daylight  was  drawing  to  an  early  close  as 
the  two  stood  looking  out  of  the  sitting-room  window. 
A  man's  figure  muffled  in  a  greatcoat  slanting  carefully 
across  the  street  caught  their  eyes.  Virginia  started.  It 
was  the  same  United  States  deputy  marshal  she  had  seen 
the  day  before  at  Mr.  Russell's  house. 

"  Pa,"  she  cried,  "  do  you  think  he  is  coming  here  ?  " 

"I  reckon  so,  honey." 

44  The  brute  !     Are  you  going  to  pay  ?  " 

"No,  Jinny." 

"  Then  they  will  take  away  the  furniture." 

44  I  reckon  they  will." 

"  Pa,  you  must  promise  me  to  take  down  the  mahogany 
bed  in  your  room.  It  —  it  was  mother's.  I  could  not 
bear  to  see  them  take  that.  Let  me  put  it  in  the  garret." 

The  Colonel  was  distressed,  but  he  spoke  without  a 
tremor. 

"  No,  Jinny.  We  must  leave  this  house  just  as  it  is." 
Then  he  added,  strangely  enough  for  him,  "  God's  will  be 
done." 

The  bell  rang  sharply.  And  Ned,  who  was  cook  and 
housemaid,  came  in  with  his  apron  on. 

44  Does  you  want  to  see  folks,  Marse  Comyn  ?  " 

The  Colonel  rose,  and  went  to  the  door  himself.  He 
was  an  imposing  figure  as  he  stood  in  the  windy  vestibule, 
confronting  the  deputy.  Virginia's  first  impulse  was  to 
shrink  under  the  stairs.  Then  she  came  out  and  stood 
beside  her  father. 

44  Are  you  Colonel  Carvel?" 

4'I  reckon  I  am.     Will  you  come  in?  " 

The  officer  took  off  his  cap.  He  was  a  young  man  with 
a  smooth  face,  and  a  frank  brown  eye  which  paid  its  tribute 
to  Virginia.  He  did  not  appear  to  relish  the  duty  thrust 
upon  him.  He  fumbled  in  his  coat  and  drew  from  his 
inner  pocket  a  paper. 


THE   LIST   OF   SIXTY  381 

"  Colonel  Carvel,"  said  he,  "  by  order  of  Major  General 
Halleck,  I  serve  you  with  this  notice  to  pay  the  sum  of 
three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for  the  benefit  of  the  desti 
tute  families  which  the  Rebels  have  driven  from  their  homes. 
In  default  of  payment  within  a  reasonable  time  such  per 
sonal  articles  will  be  seized  and  sold  at  public  auction  as  will 
satisfy  the  demand  against  you." 

The  Colonel  took  the  paper.  "  Very  well,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  You  may  tell  the  General  that  the  articles  may  be  seized. 
That  I  will  not,  while  in  my  right  mind,  be  forced  to  sup 
port  persons  who  have  no  claim  upon  me." 

It  was  said  in  the  tone  in  which  he  might  have  refused 
an  invitation  to  dinner.  The  deputy  marvelled.  He  had 
gone  into  many  houses  that  week ;  had  seen  indignation, 
hysterics,  frenzy.  He  had  even  heard  men  and  women 
whose  sons  and  brothers  were  in  the  army  of  secession  pro 
claim  their  loyalty  to  the  Union.  But  this  dignity,  and  the 
quiet  scorn  of  the  girl  who  had  stood  silent  beside  them, 
were  new.  He  bowed,  and  casting  his  eyes  to  the  vesti 
bule,  was  glad  to  escape  from  the  house. 

The  Colonel  shut  the  door.  Then  he  turned  toward  Vir 
ginia,  thoughtfully  pulled  his  goatee,  and  laughed  gently. 

"  Lordy,  we  haven't  got  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 

to  our  names,"  said  he. 

****** 

The  climate  of  St.  Louis  is  capricious.  That  fierce  val 
ley  of  the  Missouri,  which  belches  fitful  blizzards  from 
December  to  March,  is  sometimes  quiet.  Then  the  hot 
winds  come  up  from  the  Gulf,  and  sleet  melts,  and  win 
dows  are  opened.  In  those  days  the  streets  will  be  fetlock 
deep  in  soft  mud.  It  is  neither  summer,  nor  winter,  nor 
spring,  nor  anything. 

It  was  such  a  languorous  afternoon  in  January  that  a 
furniture  van,  accompanied  by  certain  nondescript  persons 
known  as  United  States  Police,  pulled  up  at  the  curb  in 
front  of  Mr.  Carvel's  house.  Eugenie,  watching  at  the 
window  across  the  street,  ran  to  tell  her  father,  who  came 
out  on  his  steps  and  reviled  the  van  with  all  the  fluency 
of  his  French  ancestors. 


382  THE   CRISIS 

Mammy  Easter  opened  the  door,  and  then  stood  with 
her  arms  akimbo,  amply  filling  its  place.  Her  lips  pro 
truded,  and  an  expression  of  defiance  hard  to  describe  sat 
on  her  honest  black  face. 

"Is  this  Colonel  Carvel's  house?" 

"  Yassir.  I  'low  you  knows  dat  jes  as  well  as  me."  An 
embarrassed  silence,  and  then  from  Mammy,  "  Whaffor 
youlaffin  at?" 

"Is  the  Colonel  at  home?" 

"  Now  I  reckon  you  knows  dat  he  ain't.  Ef  he  was,  you 
ain't  come  here  'quirin'  in  dat  honey  voice."  (Raising  her 
own  voice.)  "  You  tink  I  dunno  whaffor  you  come  ?  You 
done  come  heah  to  rifle,  an'  to  loot,  an'  to  steal,  an'  to 
seize  what  ain't  your'n.  You  come  heah  when  young 
Marse  ain't  to  home  ter  rob  him."  (Still  louder.)  "Ned, 
whaffor  you  hidin'  yonder?  Ef  yo'  ain't  man  to  protect 
Marse  Comyn's  prop-ty,  jes  han'  over  Marse  Comyn's 
gun." 

The  marshal  and  his  men  had  stood,  half  amused,  more 
than  half  baffled  by  this  unexpected  resistance.  Mammy 
Easter  looked  so  dangerous  that  it  was  evident  she  was 
not  to  be  passed  without  extreme  bodily  discomfort. 

"  Is  your  mistress  here  ?  " 

This  question  was  unfortunate  in  the  extreme. 

"  You  —  you  white  trash  !  "  cried  Mammy,  bursting  with 
indignation.  "  Who  is  you  to  come  heah  'quiring  fo'  her ! 
I  ain't  agwine  —  " 

"  Mammy !  " 

"  Yas'm !  Yas,  Miss  Jinny."  Mammy  backed  out  of 
the  door  and  clutched  at  her  bandanna. 

"Mammy,  what  is  all  this  noise  about?" 

The  torrent  wras  loosed  once  more. 

"  These  heah  men,  Miss  Jinny,  was  gwine  f 'r  t'  carry 
away  all  yo'  pa's  b'longin's.  I  jes'  tol'  'em  dey  ain't  comin' 
in  ovah  dis  heah  body." 

The  deputy  had  his  foot  on  the  threshold.  He  caught 
sight  of  the  face  of  Miss  Carvel  within,  and  stopped 
abruptly. 

"I    have   a   warrant   here   from  the   Provost  Marshal, 


THE   LIST   OF   SIXTY  383 

ma'am,  to  seize  personal  property  to  satisfy  a  claim  against 
Colonel  Carvel." 

Virginia  took  the  order,  read  it,  and  handed  it  back. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  I  am  to  prevent  you,"  she  said. 

The  deputy  was  plainly  abashed. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Miss.  I  —  I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am. 
But  it's  got  to  be  done." 

Virginia  nodded  coldly.     And  still  the  man  hesitated. 

"  What  are  you  waiting  for?"  she  said. 

The  deputy  wiped  his  muddy  feet.  He  made  his  men 
do  likewise.  Then  he  entered  the  chill  drawing-room, 
threw  open  the  blinds  and  glanced  around  him. 

"  I  expect  all  that  we  want  is  right  here,"  he  said. 
And  at  the  sight  of  the  great  chandelier,  with  its  cut-glass 
crystals,  he  whistled.  Then  he  walked  over  to  the  big 
English  Rothfield  piano  and  lifted  the  lid. 

The  man  was  a  musician.  Involuntarily  he  rested  him 
self  on  the  mahogany  stool,  and  ran  his  fingers  over  the 
keys.  They  seemed  to  Virginia,  standing  motionless  in 
the  hall,  to  give  out  the  very  chords  of  agony. 

The  piano,  too,  had  been  her  mother's.  It  had  once 
stood  in  the  brick  house  of  her  grandfather  Coif  ax  at  Hal- 
cyondale.  The  songs  of  Beatrice  lay  on  the  bottom  shelf 
of  the  what-not  near  by.  No  more,  of  an  evening  w-hen 
they  were  alone,  would  Virginia  quietly  take  them  out 
and  play  them  over  to  the  Colonel,  as  he  sat  dreaming  in 
the  window  with  his  cigar,  —  dreaming  of  a  field  on  the 
borders  of  a  wood,  of  a  young  girl  who  held  his  hand,  and 
sang  them  softly  to  herself  as  she  walked  by  his  side. 
And,  when  they  reached  the  house  in  the  October  twilight, 
she  had  played  them  for  him  on  this  piano.  Often  he 
had  told  Virginia  of  those  days,  and  walked  with  her  over 
those  paths. 

The  deputy  closed  the  lid,  and  sent  out  to  the  van  for 
a  truck.  Virginia  stirred.  For  the  first  time  she  heard 
the  words  of  Mammy  Easter. 

"Come  along  upstairs  wid  yo'  Mammy,  honey.  Dis 
ain't  no  place  for  us,  I  reckon."  Her  words  were  the 
essence  of  endearment.  And  yet,  while  she  pronounced 


384  THE   CRISIS 

them,  she  glared  unceasingly  at  the  intruders.  "  Oh,  de 
good  Lawd'll  burn  de  wicked ! " 

The  men  were  removing  the  carved  legs.  Virginia 
went  back  into  the  room  and  stood  before  the  deputy. 

"  Isn't  there  something  else  you  could  take  ?  Some 
jewellery  ?  "  She  flushed.  "  I  have  a  necklace  — 

"  No,  miss.  This  warrant's  on  your  father.  And  there 
ain't  nothing  quite  so  salable  as  pianos." 

She  watched  them,  dry-eyed,  as  they  carried  it  away. 
It  seemed  like  a  coffin.  Only  Mammy  Easter  guessed  at 
the  pain  in  Virginia's  breast,  and  that  was  because  there 
was  a  pain  in  her  own.  They  took  the  rosewood  what 
not,  but  Virginia  snatched  the  songs  before  the  men  could 
touch  them,  and  held  them  in  her  arms.  They  seized  the 
mahogan}^  velvet-bottomed  chairs,  her  uncle's  wedding 
present  to  her  mother;  and,  last  of  all,  they  ruthlessly 
tore  up  the  Brussels  carpet,  beginning  near  the  spot  where 
Clarence  had  spilled  ice-cream  at  one  of  her  children's 
parties. 

She  could  not  bear  to  look  into  the  dismantled  room 
when  they  had  gone.  It  was  the  embodied  wreck  of  her 
happiness.  Ned  closed  the  blinds  once  more,  and  she  her 
self  turned  the  key  in  the  lock,  and  went  slowly  up  the 
stairs. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    AUCTION 

"  STEPHEN,"  said  the  Judge,  in  his  abrupt  way,  "  there 
isn't  a  great  deal  doing.  Let's  go  over  to  the  Secesh  prop 
erty  sales." 

Stephen  looked  up  in  surprise.  The  seizures  and  in 
tended  sale  of  secession  property  had  stirred  up  immense 
bitterness  and  indignation  in  the  city.  There  were  Union 
ists  (lukewarm)  who  denounced  the  measure  as  unjust 
and  brutal.  The  feelings  of  Southerners,  avowed  and 
secret,  may  only  be  surmised.  Rigid  ostracism  was  to  be 
the  price  of  bidding  on  any  goods  displayed,  and  men  who 
bought  in  handsome  furniture  on  that  day  because  it  was 
cheap  have  still,  after  forty  years,  cause  to  remember  it. 

It  was  not  that  Stephen  feared  ostracism.  Anne  Brins- 
made  was  almost  the  only  girl  left  to  him  from  among  his 
former  circle  of  acquaintances.  Miss  Carvel's  conduct  is 
known.  The  Misses  Russell  showed  him  very  plainly  that 
they  disapproved  of  his  politics.  The  hospitable  days  at 
that  house  were  over.  Miss  Catherwood,  when  they  met 
on  the  street,  pretended  not  to  see  him,  and  Eugenie 
Renault  gave  him  but  a  timid  nod.  The  loyal  families  to 
whose  houses  he  now  went  were  mostly  Southerners,  in 
sentiment  against  forced  auctions. 

However,  he  put  on  his  coat,  and  sallied  forth  into  the 
sharp  air,  the  Judge  leaning  on  his  arm.  They  walked 
for  some  distance  in  silence. 

"  Stephen,"  said  he,  presently,  "  I  guess  I'll  do  a  little 
bidding." 

Stephen  did  not  reply.     But  he  was  astonished.      He 
wondered  what  Mr.  Whipple  wanted  with  fine  furniture. 
And,  if  he  really  wished  to  bid,  Stephen  knew  likewise 
that  no  consideration  would  stop  him. 
2c  385 


386  THE   CRISIS 

"  You  don't  approve  of  this  proceeding,  sir,  I  suppose?" 
said  the  Judge. 

"  Yes,  sir,  on  large  grounds.  War  makes  many  harsh 
things  necessary." 

"  Then,"  said  the  Judge,  tartly,  "  by  bidding,  we  help  to 
support  starving  Union  families.  You  should  not  be  afraid 
to  bid,  sir." 

Stephen  bit  his  lip.  Sometimes  Mr.  Whipple  made  him 
very  angry. 

"I  am  not  afraid  to  bid,  Judge  Whipple."  He  did  not 
see  the  smile  on  the  Judge's  face. 

"  Then  you  will  bid  in  certain  things  for  me,"  said  Mr. 
Whipple.  Here  he  hesitated,  and  shook  free  the  rest  of 
the  sentence  with  a  wrench.  "  Colonel  Carvel  always  had 
a  lot  of  stuff  I  wanted.  Now  I've  got  the  chance  to  buy  it 
cheap." 

There  was  silence  again,  for  the  space  of  a  whole  block. 
Finally,  Stephen  managed  to  say :  — 

"  You'll  have  to  excuse  me,  sir.  I  do  not  care  to  do 
that." 

"  What  I "  cried  the  Judge,  stopping  in  the  middle  of  a 
cross-street,  so  that  a  wagon  nearly  ran  over  his  toes. 

"  I  was  once  a  guest  in  Colonel  Carvel's  house,  sir. 
And  —  " 

"And  what?" 

Neither  the  young  man  nor  the  old  knew  all  it  was 
costing  the  other  to  say  these  things.  The  Judge  took  a 
grim  pleasure  in  eating  his  heart.  And  as  for  Stephen, 
he  often  went  to  his  office  through  Locust  Street,  which 
was  out  of  his  way,  in  the  hope  that  he  might  catch  a 
glimpse  of  Virginia.  He  had  guessed  much  of  the  pri 
vations  she  had  gone  through.  He  knew  that  the  Colonel 
had  hired  out  most  of  his  slaves,  and  he  had  actually  seen 
the  United  States  Police  drive  across  Eleventh  Street  with 
the  piano  that  she  had  played  on. 

The  Judge  was  laughing  quietly,  — not  a  pleasant  laugh 
to  hear, — as  they  came  to  Morgan's  great  warerooms. 
A  crowd  blocked  the  pavement,  and  hustled  and  shoved 
at  the  doors,  —  roughs,  and  soldiers  off  duty,  and  ladies  and 


THE   AUCTION  387 

gentlemen  whom  the  Judge  and  Stephen  knew,  and  some 
of  whom  they  spoke  to.  All  of  these  were  come  out  of 
curiosity,  that  they  might  see  for  themselves  any  who  had 
the  temerity  to  bid  on  a  neighbor's  household  goods.  The 
long  hall,  which  ran  from  street  to  street,  was  packed,  the 
people  surging  backward  and  forward,  and  falling  roughly 
against  the  mahogany  pieces ;  and  apologizing,  and  scold 
ing,  and  swearing  all  in  a  breath.  The  Judge,  holding 
tightly  to  Stephen,  pushed  his  way  fiercely  to  the  stand, 
vowing  over  and  over  that  the  commotion  was  a  secession 
trick  to  spoil  the  furniture  and  stampede  the  sale.  In 
truth,  it  was  at  the  Judge's  suggestion  that  a  blue  provost's 
guard  was  called  in  later  to  protect  the  seized  property. 

How  many  of  those  mahogany  pieces,  so  ruthlessly  tum 
bled  about  before  the  public  eye^  meant  a  heartache!  Wed 
ding  presents  of  long  ago,  dear  to  many  a  bride  with  silvered 
hair,  had  been  torn  from  the  corner  where  the  children  had 
played  —  children  who  now,  alas,  were  grown  and  gone  to 
war.  Yes,  that  was  the  Brussels  rug  that  had  lain  before 
the  fire,  and  which  the  little  feet  had  worn  in  the  corner. 
Those  were  the  chairs  the  little  hands  had  harnessed,  four 
in  a  row,  and  fallen  on  its  side  was  the  armchair  —  the 
stage  coach  itself.  There  were  the  books,  held  up  to  com 
mon  gaze,  that  a  beloved  parent  had  thumbed  with  affec 
tion.  Yes,  and  here  in  another  part  of  the  hall  were  the 
family  horses  and  the  family  carriage  that  had  gone  so 
often  back  and  forth  from  church  with  the  happy  brood  of 
children,  now  scattered  and  gone  to  war. 

As  Stephen  reached  his  place  beside  the  Judge,  Mr. 
James's  effects  were  being  cried.  And,  if  glances  could 
have  killed,  many  a  bidder  would  have  dropped  dead.  The 
heavy  dining-room  table  which  meant  so  much  to  the 
family  went  for  a  song  to  a  young  man  recently  come 
from  Yankeeland,  whose  open  boast  it  was  —  like  Elipha- 
let's  secret  one  —  that  he  would  one  day  grow  rich  enough 
to  snap  his  fingers  in  the  face  of  the  Southern  aristocrats. 
Mr.  James  was  not  there.  But  Mr.  Catherwood,  his  face 
haggard  and  drawn,  watched  the  sideboard  he  had  given 
his  wife  on  her  silver  wedding  being  sold  to  a  pawnbroker. 


388  THE   CKISIS 

Stephen  looked  in  vain  for  Colonel  Carvel — for  Virginia. 
He  did  not  want  to  see  them  there.  He  knew  by  heart 
the  list  of  things  which  had  been  taken  from  their  house. 
He  understood  the  feeling  which  had  sent  the  Judge  here 
to  bid  them  in.  And  Stephen  honored  him  the  more. 

When  the  auctioneer  came  to  the  Carvel  list,  and  the 
well-known  name  was  shouted  out,  the  crowd  responded 
with  a  stir  and  pressed  closer  to  the  stand.  And  murmurs 
were  plainly  heard  in  more  than  one  direction. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  and  ladies,"  said  the  seller,  "  this 
here  is  a  genu-ine  English  Rothfield  piano  once  belonging 
to  Colonel  Carvel,  and  the  celebrated  Judge  Colfax  of 
Kaintucky."  He  lingered  fondly  over  the  names,  that 
the  impression  might  have  time  to  sink  deep.  "  This  here 
magnificent  instrument's  worth  at  the  very  least "  (another 
pause)  "  —  twelve  hundred  dollars.  What  am  I  bid?" 

He  struck  a  base  note  of  the  keys,  then  a  treble,  and 
they  vibrated  in  the  heated  air  of  the  big  hall.  Had  he 
hit  the  little  C  of  the  top  octave,  the  tinkle  of  that  also 
might  have  been  heard. 

"  Gentlemen  and  ladies,  we  have  to  begin  somewheres. 
What  am  Ibid?" 

A  menacing  murmur  gave  place  to  the  accusing  silence. 
Some  there  were  who  gazed  at  the  Rothfield  with  longing 
eyes,  but  who  had  no  intention  of  committing  social  sui 
cide.  Suddenly  a  voice,  the  rasp  of  which  penetrated  to 
St.  Charles  Street,  came  out  with  a  bid.  The  owner  was 
a  seedy  man  with  a  straw-colored,  drunkard's  mustache. 
He  was  leaning  against  the  body  of  Mrs.  Russell's  barouche 
(seized  for  sale),  and  those  about  him  shrank  away  as  from 
smallpox.  His  hundred-dollar  offer  was  followed  by  a  hiss. 

What  followed  next  Stephen  will  always  remember. 
When  Judge  Whipple  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  six  feet, 
that  was  a  warning  to  those  that  knew  him.  As  he 
doubled  the  bid,  the  words  came  out  with  the  aggressive 
distinctness  of  a  man  who  through  a  long  life  has  been 
used  to  opposition.  He  with  the  gnawed  yellow  mustache 
pushed  himself  clear  of  the  barouche,  his  smouldering  cigar- 
butt  dropping  to  the  floor.  But  there  were  no  hisses  now. 


THE   AUCTION  389 

And  this  is  how  Judge  Whipple  braved  public  opinion 
once  more.  As  he  stood  there,  defiant,  many  were  the 
conjectures  as  to  what  he  could  wish  to  do  with  the  piano  of 
his  old  friend.  Those  who  knew  the  Judge  (and  there 
were  few  who  did  not)  pictured  to  themselves  the  dingy 
little  apartment  where  he  lived,  and  smiled.  Whatever  his 
detractors  might  have  said  of  him,  no  one  was  ever  heard 
to  avow  that  he  had  bought  or  sold  anything  for  gain. 
A  tremor  ran  through  the  people.  Could  it  have  been  of 
admiration  for  the  fine  old  man  who  towered  there  glaring 
defiance  at  those  about  him  ?  "  Give  me  a  strong  and  con 
sistent  enemy,"  some  great  personage  has  said,  "rather  than 
a  lukewarm  friend."  Three  score  and  five  years  the  Judge 
had  lived,  and  now  some  were  beginning  to  suspect  that 
he  had  a  heart.  Verily  he  had  guarded  his  secret  well. 
But  it  was  let  out  to  many  more  that  day,  and  they  went 
home  praising  him  who  had  once  pronounced  his  name 
with  bitterness. 

This  is  what  happened.  Before  he  of  the  yellow  mus 
tache  could  pick  up  his  cigar  from  the  floor  and  make 
another  bid,  the  Judge  had  cried  out  a  sum  which  was  the 
total  of  Colonel  Carvel's  assessment.  Many  recall  to 
this  day  how  fiercely  he  frowned  when  the  applause  broke 
forth  of  itself ;  and  when  he  turned  to  go  they  made  a  path 
for  him,  in  admiration,  the  length  of  the  hall,  down  which 
he  stalked,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  left.  Stephen 
followed  him,  thankful  for  the  day  which  had  brought 
him  into  the  service  of  such  a  man. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  the  other  articles  were 
returned  to  Colonel  Carvel  with  the  marshal's  compli 
ments,  and  put  back  into  the  cold  parlor  where  they  had 
stood  for  many  years.  The  men  who  brought  them  offered 
to  put  down  the  carpet,  but  by  Virginia's  orders  the  rolls 
were  stood  up  in  the  corner,  and  the  floor  left  bare.  And 
days  passed  into  weeks,  and  no  sign  or  message  came  from 
Judge  Whipple  in  regard  to  the  piano  he  had  bought. 
Virginia  did  not  dare  mention  it  to  the  Colonel. 

Where  was  it?  It  had  been  carried  by  six  sweating 
negroes  up  the  narrow  stairs  into  the  Judge's  office.  Stephen 


390  THE   CEISIS 

and  Shadrach  had  by  Mr.  Whipple's  orders  cleared  a  corner 
of  his  inner  office  and  bedroom  of  papers  and  books  and 
rubbish,  and  there  the  bulky  instrument  was  finally  set  up. 
It  occupied  one-third  of  the  space.  The  Judge  watched 
the  proceeding  grimly,  choking  now  and  again  from  the  dust 
that  was  raised,  yet  uttering  never  a  word.  He  locked  the 
lid  when  the  van  man  handed  him  the  key,  and  thrust  that 
in  his  pocket. 

Stephen  had  of  late  found  enough  to  do  in  St.  Louis. 
He  was  the  kind  of  a  man  to  whom  promotions  came 
unsought,  and  without  noise.  In  the  autumn  he  had  been 
made  a  captain  in  the  Halleck  Guards  of  the  State  Militia, 
as  a  reward  for  his  indefatigable  work  in  the  armories  and 
his  knowledge  of  tactics.  Twice  his  company  had  been 
called  out  at  night,  and  once  they  made  a  campaign  as  far 
as  the  Merimec  and  captured  a  party  of  recruits  who  were 
destined  for  Jefferson  Davis.  Some  weeks  passed  before 
Mr.  Brinsmade  heard  of  his  promotion  and  this  exploit,  and 
yet  scarcely  a  day  went  by  that  he  did  not  see  the  young 
man  at  the  big  hospital.  For  Stephen  helped  in  the  work 
of  the  Sanitary  Commission  too,  and  so  strove  to  make  up 
in  zeal  for  the  service  in  the  field  which  he  longed  to  give. 

After  Christmas  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brinsmade  moved  out 
to  their  place  on  the  Belief ontaine  Road.  This  was  to 
force  Anne  to  take  a  rest.  For  the  girl  was  worn  out 
with  watching  at  the  hospitals,  and  with  tending  the  desti 
tute  mothers  and  children  from  the  ranks  of  the  refugees. 
The  Brinsmade  place  was  not  far  from  the  Fair  Grounds, 
—  now  a  receiving  camp  for  the  crude  but  eager  regiments 
of  the  Northern  states.  To  Mr.  Brinsmade's,  when  the 
day's  duty  was  done,  the  young  Union  officers  used  to 
ride,  and  often  there  would  be  half  a  dozen  of  them  to  tea. 
That  house,  and  other  great  houses  on  the  Bellefontaine 
Road  with  which  this  history  has  no  occasion  to  deal,  were 
as  homes  to  many  a  poor  fellow  who  would  never  see 
home  again.  Sometimes  Anne  would  gather  together 
such  young  ladies  of  her  acquaintance  from  the  neighbor 
hood  and  the  city  as  their  interests  and  sympathies  per 
mitted  to  waltz  with  a  Union  officer,  and  there  would  be 


THE   AUCTION  391 

a  little  dance.  To  these  dances  Stephen  Brice  was  usu 
ally  invited. 

One  such  occasion  occurred  on  a  Friday  in  January, 
and  Mr.  Brinsmade  himself  called  in  his  buggy  and  drove 
Stephen  to  the  country  early  in  the  afternoon.  He  and 
Anne  went  for  a  walk  along  the  river,  the  surface  of  which 
was  broken  by  lumps  of  yellow  ice.  Gray  clouds  hung 
low  in  the  sky  as  they  picked  their  way  over  the  frozen 
furrows  of  the  ploughed  fields.  The  grass  was  all  a 
yellow-brown,  but  the  north  wind  which  swayed  the  bare 
trees  brought  a  touch  of  color  to  Anne's  cheeks.  Before 
they  realized  where  they  were,  they  had  nearly  crossed  the 
Bellegarde  estate,  and  the  house  itself  was  come  into  view, 
standing  high  on  the  slope  above  the  withered  garden. 
They  halted. 

"  The  shutters  are  up,"  said  Stephen.  "  I  understood 
that  Mrs.  Coif  ax  had  come  out  here  not  long  ago." 

"  She  came  out  for  a  day  just  before  Christmas,"  said 
Anne,  smiling,  "and  then  she  ran  off  to  Kentucky.  I 
think  she  was  afraid  that  she  was  one  of  the  two  women 
on  the  list  of  Sixty." 

"  It  must  have  been  a  blow  to  her  pride  when  she 
found  that  she  was  not,"  said  Stephen,  who  had  a  keen 
remembrance  of  her  conduct  upon  a  certain  Sunday  not 
a  year  gone. 

Impelled  by  the  same  inclination,  they  walked  in  silence 
to  the  house  and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  porch.  The 
only  motion  in  the  view  was  the  smoke  from  the  slave 
quarters  twisting  in  the  wind,  and  the  hurrying  ice  in  the 
stream. 

"  Poor  Jinny  !  "  said  Anne,  with  a  sigh,  "  how  she  loved 
to  romp  !  What  good  times  we  used  to  have  here  together ! " 

"  Do  you  think  that  she  is  unhappy  ? "  Stephen  de 
manded,  involuntarily. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Anne.  "  How  can  you  ask  ?  But  you 
could  not  make  her  show  it.  The  other  morning  when 
she  came  out  to  our  house  I  found  her  sitting  at  the  piano. 
I  am  sure  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  she  would  not 
let  me  see  them.  She  made  some  joke  about  Spencer 


392  THE   CRISIS 

Catherwood   running   away.       What   do    you   think   the 
Judge  will  do  with  that  piano,  Stephen?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  The  day  after  they  put  it  in  his  room  he  came  in  with 
a  great  black  cloth,  which  he  spread  over  it.  You  cannot 
even  see  the  feet." 

There  was  a  silence.  And  Anne,  turning  to  him  timidly, 
gave  him  a  long,  searching  look. 

"  It  is  growing  late,"  she  said.  "  I  think  that  we  ought 
to  go  back." 

They  went  out  by  the  long  entrance  road,  through  the 
naked  woods.  Stephen  said  little.  Only  a  little  while 
before  he  had  had  one  of  those  vivid  dreams  of  Virginia 
which  left  their  impression,  but  not  their  substance,  to 
haunt  him.  On  those  rare  days  following  the  dreams  her 
spirit  had  its  mastery  over  his.  He  pictured  her  then 
with  a  glow  on  her  face  which  was  neither  sadness  nor 
mirth, — >a  glow  that  ministered  to  him  alone.  And  yet, 
he  did  not  dare  to  think  that  he  might  have  won  her, 
even  if  politics  and  war  had  not  divided  them. 

When  the  merriment  of  the  dance  was  at  its  height 
that  evening,  Stephen  stood  at  the  door  of  the  long  room, 
meditatively  watching  the  bright  gowns  and  the  flash  of 
gold  on  the  uniforms  as  they  flitted  past.  Presently  the 
opposite  door  opened,  and  he  heard  Mr.  Brinsmade's  voice 
mingling  with  another,  the  excitable  energy  of  which 
recalled  some  familiar  episode.  Almost  —  so  it  seemed  — 
at  one  motion,  the  owner  of  the  voice  had  come  out  of  the 
door  and  had  seized  Stephen's  hand  in  a  warm  grasp,  — 
a  tall  and  spare  figure  in  the  dress  of  a  senior  officer. 
The  military  frock,  which  fitted  the  man's  character  rather 
than  the  man,  was  carelessly  open,  laying  bare  a  gold-but 
toned  white  waistcoat  and  an  expanse  of  shirt  bosom  which 
ended  in  a  black  stock  tie.  The  ends  of  the  collar  were 
apart  the  width  of  the  red  clipped  beard,  and  the  mus 
tache  was  cropped  straight  along  the  line  of  the  upper 
lip.  The  forehead  rose  high,  and  was  brushed  carelessly 
free  of  the  hair.  The  nose  was  almost  straight,  but  com 
bative.  A  fire  fairly  burned  in  the  eyes. 


THE   AUCTION  .          393 

"  The  boy  doesn't  remember  me,"  said  the  gentleman, 
in  quick  tones,  smiling  at  Mr.  Brinsmade. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  do,"  Stephen  made  haste  to  answer.  He 
glanced  at  the  star  on  the  shoulder  strap,  and  said  :  "  You 
are  General  Sherman." 

"  First  rate  !  "  laughed  the  General,  patting  him. 
"  First  rate  !  " 

"  Now  in  command  at  Camp  Benton,  Stephen,"  Mr. 
Brinsmade  put  in.  "  Won't  you  sit  down,  General  ?  " 

"No,"  said  the  General,  emphatically  waving  away 
the  chair,  "  No,  rather  stand."  Then  his  keen  face  sud 
denly  lighted  with  amusement,  —  and  mischief,  Stephen 
thought.  "  So  you've  heard  of  me  since  we  met,  sir  ?  " 

"Yes,  General." 

"  Humph  !  Guess  you  heard  I  was  crazy,"  said  the 
General,  in  his  downright  way. 

Stephen  was  struck  dumb. 

"  He's  been  reading  the  lies  in  the  newspapers  too, 
Brinsmade,"  the  General  went  on  rapidly.  "  I'll  make 
'em  eat  their  newspapers  for  saying  I  was  crazy.  That's 
the  Secretary  of  War's  doings.  Ever  tell  you  what 
Cameron  did,  Brinsmade?  He  and  his  party  were  in 
Louisville  last  fall,  when  I  was  serving  in  Kentucky,  and 
came  to  my  room  in  the  Gait  House.  Well,  we  locked 
the  door,  and  Miller  sent  us  up  a  good  lunch  and  wine. 
After  lunch,  the  Secretary  lay  on  my  bed,  and  we  talked 
things  over.  He  asked  me  what  I  thought  about  things 
in  Kentucky.  I  told  him.  I  got  a  map.  I  said,  4Now,  Mr. 
Secretary,  here  is  the  whole  Union  line  from  the  Potomac 
to  Kansas.  Here's  McClellan  in  the  East  with  one  hun 
dred  miles  of  front.  Here's  Fremont  in  the  West  with 
one  hundred  miles.  Here  we  are  in  Kentucky,  in  the 
centre,  with  three  hundred  miles  to  defend.  McClellan 
has  a  hundred  thousand  men,  Fremont  has  sixty  thousand. 
You  give  us  fellows  with  over  three  hundred  miles  only 
eighteen  thousand.'  'How  many  do  you  want?'  says 
Cameron,  still  on  the  bed.  4  Two  hundred  thousand  before 
we  get  through,'  said  I.  Cameron  pitched  up  his  hands 
in  the  air.  4  Great  God  ! '  says  he,  4  where  are  they  to 


394  THE   CEISIS 

come  from  ?  '  '  The  northwest  is  chuck  full  of  regiments 
you  fellows  at  Washington  won't  accept,'  said  I.  '  Mark 
my  words,  Mr.  Secretary,  you'll  need  'em  all  and  more 
before  we  get  done  with  this  Rebellion.'  Well,  sir,  he 
was  very  friendly  before  we  finished,  and  I  thought  the 
thing  was  all  thrashed  out.  No,  sir  !  he  goes  back  to 
Washington  and  gives  it  out  that  I'm  crazy,  and  want 
two  hundred  thousand  men  in  Kentucky.  Then  I  am  or 
dered  to  report  to  Halleck  in  Missouri  here,  and  he  calls 
me  back  from  Sedalia  because  he  believes  the  lies." 

Stephen,  who  had  in  truth  read  the  stories  in  question  a 
month  or  two  before,  could  not  conceal  his  embarrassment. 
He  looked  at  the  man  in  front  of  him,  —  alert,  masterful, 
intelligent,  frank  to  any  stranger  who  took  his  fancy,  — 
and  wondered  how  any  one  who  had  talked  to  him  could 
believe  them. 

Mr.  Brinsmade  smiled.  "  They  have  to  print  something, 
General,"  he  said. 

"  I'll  give  'em  something  to  print  later  on,"  answered  the 
General,  grimly.  Then  his  expression  changed.  "Brins 
made,  you  fellows  did  have  a  session  with  Fre'mont,  didn't 
you?  Anderson  sent  me  over  here  last  September,  and 
the  first  man  I  ran  across  at  the  Planters'  House  was  Ap- 
pleton.  'What  are  you  in  town  for?  '  says  he.  '  To  see 
Fre'mont,'  I  said.  You  ought  to  have  heard  Appleton  laugh. 
4  You  don't  think  Fremont'll  see  you,&Q  you?'  says  he.  '  Why 
not  ?  '  '  Well,'  says  Tom,  '  go  'round  to  his  palace  at  six 
to-morrow  morning  and  bribe  that  Hungarian  prince  who 
runs  his  body-guard  to  get  you  a  good  place  in  the  line  of 
senators  and  governors  and  first  citizens,  and  before  night 
fall  you  may  get  a  sight  of  him,  since  you  come  from  An 
derson.  Not  one  man  in  a  hundred,'  says  Appleton,  '  not 
one  man  in  a  hundred,  reaches  his  chief-of-staff.'  Next 
morning,"  the  General  continued  in  a  staccato  which  was 
often  his  habit,  "  had  breakfast  before  daybreak  and  went 
'round  there.  Place  just  swarming  with  Calif ornians  — 
army  contracts."  (The  General  sniffed.)  "  Saw  Fremont. 
Went  back  to  hotel.  More  Californians,  and  by  gad  —  old 
Baron  Steinberger  with  his  nose  hanging  over  the  register." 


THE   AUCTION  395 

"  Fremont  was  a  little  difficult  to  get  at,  General,"  said 
Mr.  Brinsmade.  "  Things  were  confused  and  discouraged 
when  those  first  contracts  were  awarded.  Fremont  was  a 
good  man,  and  it  wasn't  his  fault  that  the  inexperience  of 
his  quartermasters  permitted  some  of  those  men  to  get 
rich." 

"  No,"  said  the  General.  "  His  fault !  Certainly  not. 
Good  man !  To  be  sure  he  was  —  didn't  get  along  with 
Blair.  These  court-martials  you're  having  here  now  have 
stirred  up  the  whole  country.  I  guess  we'll  hear  now 
how  those  fortunes  were  made.  To  listen  to  those  wit 
nesses  lie  about  each  other  on  the  stand  is  better  than  the 
theatre.". 

Stephen  laughed  at  the  comical  and  vivid  manner  in 
which  the  General  set  this  matter  forth.  He  himself  had 
been  present  one  day  of  the  sittings  of  the  court-martial 
when  one  of  the  witnesses  on  the  prices  of  mules  was  that 
same  seedy  man  with  the  straw-colored  mustache  who  had 
bid  for  Virginia's  piano  against  the  Judge. 

"  Come,  Stephen,"  said  the  General,  abruptly,  "  run  and 
snatch  one  of  those  pretty  girls  from  my  officers.  They're 
having  more  than  their  share." 

"  They  deserve  more,  sir,"  answered  Stephen. 

Whereupon  the  General  laid  his  hand  impulsively  on 
the  young  man's  shoulder,  divining  what  Stephen  did  not 
say. 

"Nonsense!"  said  he;  "you  are  doing  the  work  in, this 
war,  not  we.  We  do  the  damage  —  you  repair  it.  If  it 
were  not  for  Mr.  Brinsmade  and  you  gentlemen  who  help 
him,  where  would  our  Western  armies  be?  Don't  you  go 
to  the  front  yet  a  while,  young  man.  We  need  the  best 
we  have  in  reserve."  He  glanced  critically  at  Stephen. 
"  You've  had  military  training  of  some  sort?" 

"  He's  a  captain  in  the  Halleck  Guards,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Brinsmade,  generously,  "and  the  best  drillmaster  we've 
had  in  this  city.  He's  seen  service,  too,  General." 

Stephen  reddened  furiously  and  started  to  protest,  when 
the  General  cried  :  — 

"  It's  more  than  I  have  in  this  war.    Come,  come,  I  knew 


396  THE   CRISIS 

he  was  a  soldier.  Let's  see  what  kind  of  a  strategist  he'll 
make.  Brinsmade,  have  you  got  such  a  thing  as  a  map?  " 

Mr.  Brinsmade  had,  and  led  the  way  back  into  the 
library.  The  General  shut  the  door,  lighted  a  cigar  with 
a  single  vigorous  stroke  of  a  match,  and  began  to  smoke 
with  quick  puffs.  Stephen  was  puzzled  how  to  receive 
the  confidences  the  General  was  giving  out  with  such 
freedom. 

When  the  map  was  laid  on  the  table,  the  General  drew 
a  pencil  from  his  pocket  and  pointed  to  the  siate  of  Ken 
tucky.  Then  he  drew  a  line  from  Columbus  to  Bowling 
Green,  through  Forts  Donelson  and  Henry. 

"  Now,  Stephen,"  said  he,  "  there's  the  Rebel  line.  Show 
me  the  proper  place  to  break  it." 

Stephen  hesitated  a  while,  and  then  pointed  at  the 
centre. 

"  Good  !  "  said  the  General.  "  Very  good !  "  He  drew 
a  heavy  line  across  the  first,  and  it  ran  almost  in  the  bed 
of  the  Tennessee  River.  He  swung  on  Mr.  Brinsmade. 
"  Very  question  Halleck  asked  me  the  other  day,  and 
that's  how  I  answered  it.  Now,  gentlemen,  there's  a  man 
named  Grant  down  in  that  part  of  the  country.  Keep 
your  eyes  on  him.  Ever  heard  of  him,  Brinsmade?  He 
used  to  live  here  once,  and  a  year  ago  he  was  less  than  I 
was.  Now  he's  a  general." 

The  recollection  of  the  scene  in  the  street  by  the  Arsenal 
that  May  morning  not  a  year  gone  came  to  Stephen  with 
a  shock. 

"  I  saw  him,"  he  cried ;  "  he  was  Captain  Grant  that 
lived  on  the  Gravois  Road.  But  surely  this  can't  be  the 
same  man  who  seized  Paducah  and  was  in  that  affair  at 
Belmont." 

"  By  gum  !  "  said  the  General,  laughing.  "  Don't  won 
der  you're  surprised.  Grant  has  stuff  in  him.  They 
kicked  him  around  Springfield  awhile,  after  the  war 
broke  out,  for  a  military  carpet-bagger.  Then  they  gave 
him  for  a  regiment  the  worst  lot  of  hoodlums  you  ever 
laid  eyes  on.  He  fixed  'em.  He  made  'em  walk  the 
plank.  He  made  'em  march  halfway  across  the  state 


THE   AUCTION  397 

instead  of  taking  the  cars  the  Governor  offered.  Bel- 
mont !  I  guess  he  is  the  man  that  chased  the  Rebs  out 
of  Belmont.  Then  his  boys  broke  loose  when  they  got 
into  the  town.  That  wasn't  Grant's  fault.  The  Rebs 
came  back  and  chased  'em  out  into  their  boats  on  the 
river.  Brinsmade,  you  remember  hearing  about  that. 
Grant  did  the  coolest  thing  you  ever  saw.  He  sat  on  his 
horse  at  the  top  of  the  bluff  while  the  boys  fell  over  each 
other  trying  to  get  on  the  boat.  Yes,  sir,  he  sat  there, 
disgusted,  on  his  horse,  smoking  a  cig^r,  with  the  Rebs 
raising  pandemonium  all  around  him.  And  then,  sir," 
cried  the  General,  excitedly,  "what  do  you  think  he  did? 
Hanged  if  he  didn't  force  his  horse  right  on  to  his 
haunches,  slide  down  the  whole  length  of  the  bank  and 
ride  him  across  a  teetering  plank  on  to  the  steamer.  And 
the  Rebs  just  stood  on  the  bank  and  stared.  They  were 
so  astonished  they  didn't  even  shoot  the  man.  You  watch 
Grant,"  said  the  General.  "  And  now,  Stephen,"  he 
added,  ujust  you  run  off  and  take  hold  of  the  prettiest 
girl  you  can  find.  If  any  of  my  boys  object,  say  I  sent 
you." 

The  next  Monday  Stephen  had  a  caller.  It  was  little 
Tiefel,  now  a  first  lieutenant  with  a  bristly  beard  and  tanned 
face,  come  to  town  on  a  few  days'  furlough.  He  had  been 
with  Lyon  at  Wilson's  Creek,  and  he  had  a  sad  story  to 
tell  of  how  he  found  poor  Richter,  lying  stark  on  that 
bloody  field,  with  a  smile  of  peace  upon  his  face.  Strange 
that  he  should  at  length  have  been  killed  by  a  sabre ! 

It  was  a  sad  meeting  for  those  two,  since  each  reminded 
the  other  of  a  dear  friend  they  would  see  no  more  on  earth. 
They  went  out  to  sup  together  in  the  German  style ;  and 
gradually,  over  his  beer,  Tiefel  forgot  his  sorrow.  Stephen 
listened  with  an  ache  to  the  little  man's  tales  of  the  cam 
paigns  he  had  been  through.  So  that  presently  Tiefe*. 
cried  out :  — 

"  Why,  my  friend,  you  are  melancholy  as  an  owl.  I  will 
tell  you  a  funny  story.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  one  General 
Sherman?  He  that  they  say  is  crazy?" 

"  He  is  no  more  crazy  than  I  am,"  said  Stephen,  warmly. 


398  tHE  CRISIS 

"  Is  he  not  ?  "  answered  Tiefel,  "  then  I  will  show  you  a 
mistake.  You  recall  last  November  he  was  out  to  Sedalia 
to  inspect  the  camp  there,  and  he  sleeps  in  a  little  country 
store  where  I  am  quartered.  Now  up  gets  your  General  Sher 
man  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  —  midnight, — and  marches 
up  and  down  between  the  counters,  and  waves  his  arms. 
"'So,'  says  he,  'and  so,'  says  he,  'Sterling  Price  will  be 
here,  and  Steele  here,  and  this  column  will  take  that  road, 
and  so-and-so's  a  damned  fool.  Is  not  that  crazy  ?  So  he 
walks  up  and  doVvn  for  three  eternal  hours.  Says  he, 
'  Pope  has  no  business  to  be  at  Osterville,  and  Steele  here 
at  Sedalia  with  his  regiments  all  over  the  place.  They  must 
both  go  into  camp  at  La  Mine  River,  and  form  brigades 
and  divisions,  that  the  troops  may  be  handled.' " 

"IE  that's  insanity,"  cried  Stephen  so  strongly  as  to 
surprise  the  little  man,  "  then  I  wish  we  had  more  insane 
generals.  It  just  shows  how  a  malicious  rumor  will  spread. 
What  Sherman  said  about  Pope's  and  Steele's  forces  is  true 
as  Gospel,  and  if  you  ever  took  the  trouble  to  look  into 
that  situation,  Tiefel,  you  would  see  it."  And  Stephen 
brought  down  his  mug  on  the  table  with  a  crash  that  made 
the  bystanders  jump. 

"  Himmel !  "  exclaimed  little  Tiefel.  But  he  spoke  in 
admiration. 

It  was  not  a  month  after  that  that  Sherman's  prophecy 
of  the  quiet  general  who  had  slid  down  the  bluff  at  Bel- 
mont  came  true.  The  whole  country  hummed  with  Grant's 
praises.  Moving  with  great  swiftness  and  secrecy  up  the 
Tennessee,  in  company  with  the  gunboats  of  Commodore 
Foote,  he  had  pierced  the  Confederate  line  at  the  very 
point  Sherman  had  indicated.  Fort  Henry  had  fallen,  and 
Grant  was  even  then  moving  to  besiege  Donelson. 

Mr.  Brinsmade  prepared  to  leave  at  once  for  the  battle 
field,  taking  with  him  to  Paducah  physicians  and  nurses. 
All  day  long  the  boat  was  loading  with  sanitary  stores  and 
boxes  of  dainties  for  the  wounded.  It  was  muggy  and 
wet  —  characteristic  of  that  winter  —  as  Stephen  pushed 
through  the  drays  on  the  slippery  levee  to  the  landing. 
He  had  with  him  a  basket  his  mother  had  put  up.  He 


THE   AUCTION  399 

also  bore  a  message  to  Mr.  Brinsmade  from  the  Judge. 
It  was  while  he  was  picking  his  way  along  the  crowded 
decks  that  he  ran  into  General  Sherman.  The  General 
seized  him  unceremoniously  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Good-by,  Stephen,"  he  said. 

"  Good-by,  General,"  said  Stephen,  shifting  his  basket  to 
shake  hands.  "  Are  you  going  away?  " 

"  Ordered  to  Paducah,"  said  the  General.  He  pulled 
Stephen  off  the  guards  into  an  empty  cabin.  "  Brice," 
said  he,  earnestly,  "I  haven't  forgotten  how  you  saved 
young  Brinsmade  at  Camp  Jackson.  They  tell  me  that 
you  are  useful  here.  I  say,  don't  go  in  unless  you  have 
to.  I  don't  mean  force,  you  understand.  But  when  you 
feel  that  you  can  go  in,  come  to  me  or  write  me  a  letter. 
That  is,"  he  added,  seemingly  inspecting  Stephen's  white 
teeth  with  approbation,  "  if  you're  not  afraid  to  serve  under 
a  crazy  man." 

It  has  been  said  that  the  General  liked  the  lack  of  effu 
siveness  of  Stephen's  reply. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ELIPHALET   PLAYS    HIS   TRUMPS 

SUMMER  was  come  again.  Through  interminable  days 
the  sun  beat  down  upon  the  city;  and  at  night  the  tor 
tured  bricks  flung  back  angrily  the  heat  with  which  he 
had  filled  them.  Great  battles  had  been  fought,  and  vast 
armies  were  drawing  breath  for  greater  ones  to  come. 

"Jinny,"  said  the  Colonel  one  day,  "as  we  don't  seem 
to  be  much  use  in  town,  I  reckon  we  may  as  well  go  to 
Glencoe." 

Virginia  threw  her  arms  around  her  father's  neck.  For 
many  months  she  had  seen  what  the  Colonel  himself  was 
slow  to  comprehend — that  his  usefulness  was  gone..  The 
days  melted  into  weeks,  and  Sterling  Price  and  his  army 
of  liberation  failed  to  come.  The  vigilant  Union  general 
and  his  aides  had  long  since  closed  all  avenues  to  the 
South.  For,  one  fine  morning  toward  the  end  of  the 
previous  summer,  when  the  Colonel  was  contemplating 
a  journey,  he  had  read  that  none  might  leave  the  city 
without  a  pass,  whereupon  he  went  hurriedly  to  the  office 
of  the  Provost  Marshal.  There  he  had  found  a  number 
of  gentlemen  in  the  same  plight,  each  waving  a  pass  made 
out  by  the  Provost  Marshal's  clerks,  and  waiting  for  that 
officer's  signature.  The  Colonel  also  procured  one  of 
these,  and  fell  into  line.  The  Marshal  gazed  at  the  crowd, 
pulled  off  his  coat,  and  readily  put  his  name  to  the  passes 
of  several  gentlemen  going  east.  Next  came  Mr.  Bub 
Ballington,  whom  the  Colonel  knew,  but  pretended  not  to. 

"  Going  to  Springfield  ?  "  asked  the  Marshal,  genially. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bub. 

"  Not  very  profitable  to  be  a  minute-man,  eh  ?  "  in  the 
same  tone. 

The  Marshal   signs   his   name,  Mr.   Ballington   trying 

400 


ELIPHALET   PLAYS   HIS   TRUMPS  401 

not  to  look  indignant  as  he  makes  for  the  door.  A  small 
silver  bell  rings  on  the  Marshal's  desk,  the  one  word, 
"  Spot  !  "  breaks  the  intense  silence,  which  is  one  way 
of  saying  that  Mr.  Ballington  is  detained,  and  will  prob 
ably  be  lodged  that  night  at  Government  expense. 

"  Well,  Colonel  Carvel,  what  can  I  do  for  you  this 
morning  ?  "  asked  the  Marshal,  genially. 

The  Colonel  pushed  back  his  hat  and  wiped  his  brow. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  wait  till  next  week,  Captain,'1  said  Mr. 
Carvel.  "It's  pretty  hot  to  travel  just  now." 

The  Provost  Marshal  smiled  sweetly.  There  were 
many  in  the  office  who  would  have  liked  to  laugh,  but 
it  did  not  pay  to  laugh  at  some  people.  Colonel  Carvel 
was  one  of  them. 

In  the  proclamation  of  martial  law  was  much  to  make 
life  less  endurable  than  ever.  All  who  were  convicted 
by  a  court-martialof  being  rebels  were  to  have  property 
confiscated,  and  slaves  set  free.  Then  there  was  a  certain 
oath  to  be  taken  by  all  citizens  who  did  not  wish  to  have 
guardians  appointed  over  their  actions.  There  were  many 
who  swallowed  this  oath  and  never  felt  any  ill  effects. 
Mr.  Jacob  Cluyme  was  one,  and  came  away  feeling  very 
virtuous.  It  was  not  unusual  for  Mr.  Cluyme  to  feel 
virtuous.  Mr.  Hopper  did  not  have  indigestion  after 
taking  it,  but  Colonel  Carvel  would  sooner  have  eaten 
gooseberry  pie,  which  he  had  never  tasted  but  once. 

That  summer  had  worn  away,  like  a  monster  who  turns 
and  gives  hot  gasps  when  you  think  it  has  expired.  It 
took  the  Arkansan  just  a  month,  under  Virginia's  care, 
to  become  well  enough  to  be  sent  to  a  Northern  prison. 
He  was  not  precisely  a  Southern  gentleman,  and  he  went  to 
sleep  over  the  "Idylls of  the  King."  But  he  was  admiring, 
and  grateful,  and  wept  when  he  went  off  to  the  boat  with 
the  provost's  guard,  destined  for  a  Northern  prison.  Vir 
ginia  wept  too.  He  had  taken  her  away  from  her  aunt 
(who  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him),  and  had  given 
her  occupation.  She  nor  her  father  never  tired  of  hearing 
his  rough  tales  of  Price's  rough  army. 

His  departure  was  about  the  time  when  suspicions  were 

2D 


402  THE   CRISIS 

growing  set.  The  favor  had  caused  comment  and  trouble, 
hence  there  was  no  hope  of  giving  another  sufferer  the 
same  comfort.  The  cordon  was  drawn  tighter.  One  of 
the  mysterious  gentlemen  who  had  been  seen  in  the 
vicinity  of  Colonel  Carvel's  house  was  arrested  on  the 
ferry,  but  he  had  contrived  to  be  rid  of  the  carpet-sack 
in  which  certain  precious  letters  were  carried. 

Throughout  the  winter,  Mr.  Hopper's  visits  to  Locust 
Street  had  continued  at  intervals  of  painful  regularity. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  upon  his  brilliant  powers  of 
conversation,  nor  to  repeat  the  platitudes  which  he  re 
peated,  for  there  was  no  significance  in  Mr.  Hopper's  tales, 
not  a  particle.  The  Colonel  had  found  that  out,  and  was 
thankful.  His  manners  were  better ;  his  English  de 
cidedly  better. 

It  was  for  her  father's  sake,  of  course,  that  Virginia 
bore  with  him.  Such  is  the  appointed  lot  of  women. 
She  tried  to  be  just,  and  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  had 
never  before  been  just.  Again  and  again  she  repeated 
to  herself  that  Eliphalet's  devotion  to  the  Colonel  at  this 
low  ebb  of  his  fortunes  had  something  in  it  of  which  she 
did  not  suspect  him.  She  had  a  class  contempt  for  Mr. 
Hopper  as  an  uneducated  Yankee  and  a  person  of  com 
mercial  ideals.  But  now  he  was  showing  virtues,  —  if 
virtues  they  were,  —  and  she  tried  to  give  him  the  benefit 
of  the  doubt.  With  his  great  shrewdness  and  business 
ability,  why  did  he  not  take  advantage  of  the  many  oppor 
tunities  the  war  gave  to  make  a  fortune  ?  For  Virginia 
had  of  late  been  going  to  the  store  with  the  Colonel,  —  who 
spent  his  mornings  turning  over  piles  of  dusty  papers,  — 
and  Mr.  Hopper  had  always  been  at  his  desk. 

After  this,  Virginia  even  strove  to  be  kind  to  him,  but 
it  was  uphill  work.  The  front  door  never  closed  after 
one  of  his  visits  that  suspicion  was  not  left  behind.  Arr- 
tipathy  would  assert  itself.  Could  it  be  that  there  was 
a  motive  under  all  this  plotting  ?  He  struck  her  inevi 
tably  as  the  kind  who  would  be  content  to  mine  under 
ground  to  attain  an  end.  The  worst  she  could  think  of 
him  was  that  he  wished  to  ingratiate  himself  now,  in  the 


ELIPHALET   PLAYS   HIS   TRUMPS  403 

hope  that,  when  the  war  was  ended,  he  might  become  a 
partner  in  Mr.  Carvel's  business.  She  had  put  even  this 
away  as  unworthy  of  her. 

Once  she  had  felt  compelled  to  speak  to  her  father  on 
the  subject. 

"  I  believe  I  did  him  an  injustice,  Pa,"  she  said.  "  Not 
that  I  like  him  any  better  now.  I  must  be  honest  about 
that.  I  simply  can't  like  him.  But  I  do  think  that  if  he 
had  been  as  unscrupulous  as  I  thought,  he  would  have 
deserted  you  long  ago  for  something  more  profitable.  He 
would  not  be  sitting  in  the  office  day  after  day  making 
plans  for  the  business  when  the  war  is  over." 

She  remembered  how  sadly  he  had  smiled  at  her  over 
the  top  of  his  paper. 

"  You  are  a  good  girl,  Jinny,"  he  said. 

Toward  the  end  of  July  of  that  second  summer  riots 
broke  out  in  the  city,  and  simultaneously  a  bright  spot 
appeared  on  Virginia's  horizon.  This  took  the  form,  for 
Northerners,  of  a  guerilla  scare,  and  an  order  was  promptly 
issued  for  the  enrollment  of  all  the  able-bodied  men  in  the 
ten  wards  as  militia,  subject  to  service  in  the  state,  to 
exterminate  the  roving  bands.  Whereupon  her  Britannic 
Majesty  became  extremely  popular, — even  with  some  who 
claimed  for  a  birthplace  the  Emerald  Isle.  Hundreds  who 
heretofore  had  valued  but  lightly  their  British  citizenship 
made  haste  to  renew  their  allegiance  ;  and  many  sought 
the  office  of  the  English  Consul  whose  claims  on  her 
Majesty's  protection  were  vague,  to  say  the  least.  Broken 
heads  and  scandal  followed.  For  the  first  time,  when 
Virginia  walked  to  the  store  with  her  father,  Eliphalet 
was  not  there.  It  was  strange  indeed  that  Virginia 
defended  him. 

"I  don't  blame  him  for  not  wanting  to  fight  for  the 
Yankees,"  she  said. 

The  Colonel  could  not  resist  a  retort. 

"  Then  why  doesn't  he  fight  for  the  South  ?  "   he  asked. 

"  Fight  for  the  South  !  "  cried  the  young  lady,  scorn 
fully.  "  Mr.  Hopper  fight  ?  I  reckon  the  South  wouldn't 
have  him." 


404  THE   CRISIS 

"  I  reckon  not,  too,"  said  the  Colonel,  dryly. 

For  the  following  week  curiosity  prompted  Virginia  to 
take  that  walk  with  the  Colonel.  Mr.  Hopper  being  still 
absent,  she  helped  him  to  sort  the  papers  —  those  grimy 
reminders  of  a  more  prosperous  time  gone  by.  Often  Mr. 
Carvel  would  run  across  one  which  seemed  to  bring  some 
incident  to  his  mind  ;  for  he  would  drop  it  absently  on 
his  desk,  his  hand  seeking  his  chin,  and  remain  for  half  an 
hour  lost  in  thought.  Virginia  would  not  disturb  him. 

Meanwhile  there  had  been  inquiries  for  Mr.  Hopper. 
The  Colonel  answered  them  all  truthfully  —  generally 
with  that  dangerous  suavity  for  which  he  was  noted. 
Twice  a  seedy  man  with  a  gnawed  yellow  mustache  had 
come  in  to  ask  Eliphalet's  whereabouts.  On  the  second 
occasion  this  individual  became  importunate. 

"  You  don't  know  nothin'  about  him,  you  say  ? "  he 
demanded. 

"  No,"  said  the  Colonel. 

The  man  took  a  shuffle  forward. 

"  My  name's  Ford,"  he  said.  "  I  'low  I  kin  'lighten  you 
a  little." 

"  Good  day,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"I  guess  you'll  like  to  hear  what  I've  got  to  say." 

"  Ephum,"  said  Mr.  Carvel  in  his  natural  voice,  "  show 
this  man  out." 

Mr.  Ford  slunk  out  without  Ephum's  assistance.  But 
he  half  turned  at  the  door,  and  shot  back  a  look  that 
frightened  Virginia. 

"  Oh,  Pa,"  she  cried,  in  alarm,  "  what  did  he  mean  ?  " 

"I  couldn't  tell  you,  Jinny,"  he  answered.  But  she 
noticed  that  he  was  very  thoughtful  as  they  walked  home. 

The  next  morning  Eliphalet  had  not  returned,  but  a 
corporal  and  guard  were  waiting  to  search  the  store  for 
him.  The  Colonel  read  the  order,  and  invited,  them  in 
with  hospitality.  He  even  showed  them  the  way  upstairs, 
and  presently  Virginia  heard  them  all  tramping  overhead 
among  the  bales.  Her  eye  fell  upon  the  paper  they  had 
brought,  which  lay  unfolded  on  her  father's  desk.  It  was 
signed  Stephen  A.  Brice,  Enrolling  Officer. 


ELIPHALET   PLAYS   HIS   TRUMPS  405 

That  very  afternoon  they  moved  to  Glencoe,  and  Ephum 
was  left  in  sole  charge  of  the  store.  At  Glencoe,  far  from 
the  hot  city  and  the  cruel  war,  began  a  routine  of  peace. 
Virginia  was  a  child  again,  romping  in  the  woods  and 
fields  beside  her  father.  The  color  came  back  to  her 
cheeks  once  more,  and  the  laughter  into  her  voice.  The 
two  of  them,  and  Ned  and  Mammy,  spent  a  rollicking  hour 
in  the  pasture  the  freedom  of  which  Dick  had  known  so 
long,  before  the  old  horse  was  caught  and  brought  back  into 
bondage.  After  that  Virginia  took  long  drives  with  her 
father,  and  coming  home,  they  would  sit  in  the  summer 
house  high  above  the  Merimec,  listening  to  the  crickets' 
chirp,  and  watching  the  day  fade  upon  the  water.  The 
Colonel,  who  had  always  detested  pipes,  learned  to  smoke 
a  corncob.  He  would  sit  by  the  hour,  with  his  feet  on  the 
rail  of  the  porch  and  his  hat  tilted  back,  while  Virginia 
read  to  him.  Poe  and  Wordsworth  and  Scott  he  liked, 
but  Tennyson  was  his  favorite.  Such  happiness  could 
not  last.  .  • 

One  afternoon  when  Virginia  was  sitting  in  the  summer 
house  alone,  her  thoughts  wandering  back,  as  they  some 
times  did,  to  another  afternoon  she  had  spent  there,  — 
it  seemed  so  long  ago,  —  when  she  saw  Mammy  Easter 
coming  toward  her. 

"  Honey,  dey's  comp'ny  up  to  de  house.  Mister  Hop 
per's  done  arrived.  He's  on  de  po'ch,  talkin'  to  your 
Pa.  Lawsey,  look  wha  he  come  !  " 

In  truth,  the  solid  figure  of  Eliphalet  himself  was  on  the 
path  some  twenty  yards  behind  her.  His  hat  was  in  his 
hand  ;  his  hair  was  plastered  down  more  neatly  than  ever, 
and  his  coat  was  a  faultless  and  sober  creation  of  a  Franklin 
Avenue  tailor.  He  carried  a  cane,  which  was  unheard  of. 

Virginia  sat  upright,  and  patted  her  skirts  with  a  ges 
ture  of  annoyance  —  what  she  felt  was  anger,  resentment. 
Suddenly  she  rose,  swept  past  Mammy,  and  met  him  ten 
paces  from  the  summer  house. 

"  How-dy-do,  Miss  Virginia,"  he  cried  pleasantly. 
"  Your  father  had  a  notion  you  might  be  here."  He  said 
fayther. 


406  THE   CRISIS 

Virginia  gave  him  .her  hand  limply.  Her  greeting 
would  have  frozen  a  man  of  ardent  temperament.  But  it 
was  not  precisely  ardor  that  Eliphalet  showed.  The  girl 
paused  and  examined  him  swiftly.  There  was  something 
in  the  man's  air  to-day. 

"  So  you  were  not  caught  ?  "  she  said. 

Her  words  seemed  to  relieve  some  tension  in  him.  He 
laughed  noiselessly. 

"I  just  guess  I  wahn't." 

"  How  did  }^ou  escape  ? "  she  asked,  looking  at  him 
curiously. 

"Well,  I  did,  first  of  all.  You're  considerable  smart, 
Miss  Jinny,  but  I'll  bet  you  can't  tell  me  where  I  was, 
now." 

"  I  do  not  care  to  know.  The  place  might  save  you 
again." 

He  showed  his  disappointment.  "  I  cal'lated  it  might 
interest  you  to  know  how  I  dodged  the  Sovereign  State 
of  Missouri.  General  Halleck  made  an  order  that  released 
a  man  from  enrolling  on  payment  of  ten  dollars.  I  paid. 
Then  I  was  drafted  into  the  Abe  Lincoln  Volunteers  ;  I 
paid  a  substitute.  And  so  here  I  be,  exercising  life,  and 
liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness." 

"  So  you  bought  yourself  free?"  said  Virginia.  "  If  your 
substitute  gets  killed,  I  suppose  you  will  have  cause  for 
congratulation." 

Eliphalet  laughed,  and  pulled  down  his  cuffs.  "  That's 
his  lookout,  I  cal'late,"  said  he.  He  glanced  at  the  girl 
in  a  way  that  .made  her  vaguely  uneasy.  She  turned 
from  him,  back  toward  the  summer  house.  Eliphalet's 
eyes  smouldered  as  they  rested  upon  her  figure.  He  took 
a  step  forward. 

"  Miss  Jinny  ?  "  he  said. 

"Yes?" 

"I've  heard  considerable  about  the  beauties  of  this 
place.  Would  you  mind  showing  me  'round  a  bit  ?  " 

Virginia  started.  It  was  his  tone  now.  Not  since 
that  first  evening  in  Locust  Street  had  it  taken  on  such 
assurance.  And  yet  she  could  not  be  impolite  to  a  guest. 


ELIPHALET   PLAYS   HIS   TRUMPS  407 

"  Certainly  not,"  she  replied,  but  without  looking  up. 

Eliphalet  led  the  way.  He  came  to  the  summer  house, 
glanced  around  it  with  apparent  satisfaction,  and  put  his 
foot  on  the  moss-grown  step.  Virginia  did  a  surprising 
thing.  She  leaped  quickly  into  the  doorway  before  him, 
and  stood  facing  him,  framed  in  the  climbing  roses. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Hopper  !  "  she  cried.     "  Please,  not  in  here." 

He  drew  back,  staring  in  astonishment  at  the  crimson 
in  her  face. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  asked  suspiciously  —  almost  brutally. 

She  had  been  groping  wildly  for  excuses,  and  found 
none. 

"  Because,"  she  said,  "  because  I  ask  you  not  to."  With 
dignity  :  "That  should  be  sufficient." 

"  Well,"    replied    Eliphalet,   with   an   abortive   laugh, 
"  that's  funny,  now.    Womenkind  get  queer  notions,  which 
I  cal'late  we've  got  to  respect  and  put  up  with  all  our  lives 
—  eh?" 

Her  anger  flared  at  his  leer  and  at  his  broad  way  of 
gratifying  her  whim.  And  she  was  more  incensed  than 
ever  at  his  air  fof  being  at  home  —  it  was  nothing  less. 
The  man's  whole  manner  was  an  insult.  She  strove  still 
to  hide  her  resentment. 

"There  is  a  walk  along  the  bluff,"  she  said,  coldly, 
"where  the  view  is  just  as  good." 

But  she  purposely  drew  him  into  the  right-hand  path, 
which  led,  after  a  little,  back  to  the  house.  Despite  her 
pace  he  pressed  forward  to  her  side. 

"  Miss  Jinny,"  said  he,  precipitately,  "  did  I  ever  strike 
you  as  a  marrying  man  ?  " 

Virginia  stopped,  and  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  face, 
the  impulse  strong  upon  her  to  laugh.  Eliphalet  was 
suddenly  transformed  again  into  the  common  commercial 
Yankee.  He  was  in  love,  and  had  come  to  ask  her  advice. 
She  might  have  known  it. 

"  I  never  thought  of  you  as  of  the  marrying  kind,  Mr. 
Hopper,"  she  answered,  her  voice  quivering. 

Indeed,  he  was  irresistibly  funny  as  he  stood  hot  and 
ill  at  ease.  The  Sunday  coat  bore  witness  to  his  increas- 


408  THE   CRISIS 

ing  portliness  by  creasing  across  from  the  buttons  ;  his 
face,  fleshy  and  perspiring,  showed  purple  veins,  and  the 
little  eyes  receded  comically,  like  a  pig's. 

"  Well,  I've  been  thinking  serious  of  late  about  getting 
married,"  he  continued,  slashing  the  rose  bushes  with  his 
stick.  "  I  don't  cal'late  to  be  a  sentimental  critter.  I'm 
not  much  on  high-sounding  phrases,  and  such  things,  but 
I'd  give  you  my  word  I'd  make  a  good  husband." 

"Please  be  careful  of  those  roses,  Mr.  Hopper." 

"  Beg  pardon,"  said  Eliphalet.  He  began  to  lose  track 
of  his  tenses  —  that  was  the  only  sign  he  gave  of  perturba 
tion.  "  When  I  come  to  St.  Louis  without  a  cent,  Miss 
Jinny,  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  be  a  rich  man  before  I  left 
it.  If  I  was  to  die  now,  I'd  have  kept  that  promise.  I'm 
not  thirty-four,  and  I  cal'late  I've  got  as  much  money  in  a 
safe  place  as  a  good  many  men  you  call  rich.  I'm  not 
saying  what  I've  got,  mind  you.  All  in  proper  time. 
I'm  a  pretty  steady  kind.  I've  stopped  chewing  —  there 
was  a  time  when  I  done  that.  And  I  don't  drink  nor 
smoke." 

"  That  is  all  very  commendable,  Mr.  Hppper,"  Virginia 
said,  stifling  a  rebellious  titter.  "  But,  —  but  why  did 
you  give  up  chewing  ?  " 

"  I  am  informed  that  the  ladies  are  against  it,"  said 
Eliphalet,  —  "  dead  against  it.  You  wouldn't  like  it  in  a 
husband,  now,  would  you  ?  " 

This  time  the  laugh  was  not  to  be  put  down. 

"  I  confess  I  shouldn't,"  she  said. 

"  Thought  so,"  he  replied,  as  one  versed.  His  tones 
took  on  a  nasal  twang.  "  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I've 
about  got  ready  to  settle  down,  and  I've  had  my  eye  on 
the  lady  this  seven  years." 

"  Marvel  of  constancy  !  "  said  Virginia.  "  And  the 
lady?" 

"The  lady,"  said  Eliphalet,  bluntly,  "is  you"  He 
glanced  at  her  bewildered  face  and  went  on  rapidly:  "  You 
pleased  me  the  first  day  I  set  eyes  on  you  in  the  store. 
I  said  to  myself,  '  Hopper,  there's  the  one  for  you  to 
marry.'  I'm  plain,  but  my  folks  was  good  people.  I  set 


ELIPHALET   PLAYS   HIS   TRUMPS  409 

to  work  right  then  to  make  a  fortune  for  you,  Miss  Jinny. 
You've  just  what  I  need.  I'm  a  plain  business  man  with 
no  frills.  You'll  do  the  frills.  You're  the  kind  that  was 
raised  in  the  lap  of  luxury.  You'll  need  a  man  with  a 
fortune,  and  a  big  one  ;  you're  the  sort  to  show  it  off. 
I've  got  the  foundations  of  that  fortune,  arid  the  proof  of 
it  right  here.  And  I  tell  you,"  —  his  jaw  was  set,  —  "I  tell 
you  that  some  day  Eliphalet  Hopper  will  be  one  of  the 
richest  men  in  the  West." 

He  had  stopped,  facing  her  in  the  middle  of  the  way, 
his  voice  strong,  his  confidence  supreme.  At  first  she 
had  stared  at  him  in  dumb  wonder.  Then,  as  she  began 
to  grasp  the  meaning  of  his  harangue,  astonishment  was 
still  dominant,  —  sheer  astonishment.  She  scarcely  lis 
tened.  But,  as  he  finished,  the  thatch  of  the  summer 
house  caught  her  eye.  A  vision  arose  of  a  man  beside 
whom  Eliphalet  was  not  worthy  to  crawl.  She  thought 
of  Stephen  as  he  had  stood  that  evening  in  the  sunset, 
and  this  proposal  seemed  a  degradation.  This  brute 
dared  to  tempt  her  with  money.  Scalding  words  rose 
to  her  lips.  But  she  caught  the  look  on  Eliphalet's  face, 
and  she  knew  that  he  would  not  understand.  This  was 
one  who  rose  and  fell,  who  lived  and  loved  and  hated  and 
died  and  was  buried  by  —  money. 

For  a  second  she  looked  into  his  face  as  one  who  escapes 
a  pit  gazes  over  the  precipice,  and  shuddered.  As  for 
Eliphalet,  let  it  not  be  thought  that  he  had  no  passion. 
This  was  the  moment  for  which  he  had  lived  since  the 
day  he  had  first  seen  her  and  been  scorned  in  the  store. 
That  type  of  face,  that  air,  —  these  were  the  priceless 
things  he  would  buy  with  his  money.  Crazed  with  the 
very  violence  of  his  long-pent  desire,  he  seized  her  hand. 
She  wrung  it  free  again. 

"  How  —  how  dare  you  !  "  she  cried. 

He  staggered  back,  and  stood  for  a  moment  motionless, 
as  though  stunned.  Then,  slowly,  a  light  crept  into  his 
little  eyes  which  haunted  her  for  many  a  day. 

44  You  —  won't —  marry  me  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Oh,  how  dare  you  ask  me !  "  exclaimed  Virginia,  her 


410  THE   CEISIS 

face  burning  with  the  shame  of  it.  She  was  standing 
with  her  hands  behind  her,  her  back  against  a  great 
walnut  trunk,  the  crusted  branches  of  which  hung  over 
the  bluff.  Even  as  he  looked  at  her,  Eliphalet  lost  his 
head,  and  indiscretion  entered  his  soul. 

"  You  must  I  "  he  said  hoarsely.  "  You  must !  You've 
got  no  notion  of  my  money,  I  say." 

uOh!"  she  cried,  "can't  you  understand?  If  you 
owned  the  whole  of  California,  I  would  not  marry  you." 

Suddenly  he  became  very  cool.  He  slipped  his  hand 
into  a  pocket,  as  one  used  to  such  a  motion,  and  drew 
out  some  papers. 

"  I  cal'late  you  ain't  got  much  idea  of  the  situation, 
Miss  Carvel,"  he  said  ;  "  the  wheels  have  been  a-turning 
lately.  You're  poor,  but  I  guess  you  don't  know  how 
poor  you  are,  — eh?  The  Colonel's  a  man  of  "honor,  ain't 
he?" 

For  her  life  she  could  not  have  answered,  —  nor  did  she 
even  know  why  she  stayed  to  listen. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  after  all,  there  ain't  much  use  in  your 
lookin'  over  them  papers.  A  woman  wouldn't  know.  I'll 
tell  you  what  they  say :  they  say  that  if  I  choose,  I  am 
Carvel  &  Company." 

The  little  eyes  receded,  and  he  waited  a  moment,  seem 
ingly  to  prolong  a  physical  delight  in  the  excitement  and 
suffering  of  a  splendid  creature.  The  girl  was  breathing 
fast  and  deep. 

"  I  cal'late  you  despise  me,  don't  you  ? "  he  went  on, 
as  if  that,  too,  gave  him  pleasure.  "  But  I  tell  you  the 
Colonel's  a  beggar  but  for  me.  Go  and  ask  him  if  I'm 
lying.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  say  you'll  be  my  wife, 
and  I  tear  these  notes  in  two.  They  go  over  the  bluff." 
(He  made  the  motion  with  his  hands.)  "Carvel  &  Com 
pany's  an  old  firm,  —  a  respected  firm.  You  wouldn't  care 
to  see  it  go  out  of  the  family,  I  cal'late." 

He  paused  again,  triumphant.  But  she  did  none  of  the 
things  he  expected.  She  said,  simply :  — 

"  Will  you  please  follow  me,  Mr.  Hopper  ?  " 

And  he  followed  her,  —  his  shrewdness  gone,  for  once. 


ELIPHALET   PLAYS   HIS   TRUMPS  411 

Save  for  the  rise  and  fall  of  her  shoulders  she  seemed 
calm.  The  path  wound  through  a  jungle  of  waving  sun 
flowers  and  led  into  the  shade  in  front  of  the  house. 
There  was  the  Colonel  sitting  on  the  porch.  His  pipe 
lay  with  its  scattered  ashes  on  the  boards,  and  his  head 
was '  bent  forward,  as  though  listening.  When  he  saw 
the  two,  he  rose  expectantly,  and  went  forward  to  meet 
them.  Virginia  stopped  before  him. 

"Pa,"  she  said,  "is  it  true  that  you   have   borrowed, 
money  from  this  man  ?  " 

Eliphalet  had  seen  Mr.  Carvel  angry  once,  and  his  soul 
had  quivered.  Terror,  abject  terror,  seized  him  now,  so 
that  his  knees  smote  together.  As  well  stare  into  the 
sun  as  into  the  Colonel's  face.  In  one  stride  he  had  a 
hand  in  the  collar  of  Eliphalet's  new  coat,  the  other 
pointing  down  the  path. 

"  It  takes  just  a  minute  to  walk  to  that  fence,  sir,"  he 
said  sternly.  "  If  you  are  any  longer  about  it,  I  reckon 
you'll  never  get  past  it.  You're  a  cowardly  hound,  sir  !  " 

Mr.  Hopper's  gait  down  the  flagstones  was  an  invention 
of  his  own.  It  was  neither  a  walk,  nor  a  trot,  nor  a  run, 
but  a  sort  of  sliding  amble,  such  as  is  executed  in  night 
mares.  Singing  in  his  head  was  the  famous  example  of 
the  eviction  of  Babcock  from  the  store,  —  the  only  time 
that  the  Colonel's  bullet  had  gone  wide.  And  down  in 
the  small  of  his  back  Eliphalet  listened  for  the  crack  of 
a  pistol,  and  feared  that  a  clean  hole  might  be  bored 
there  any  minute.  Once  outside,  he  took  to  the. white 
road,  leaving  a  trail  of  dust  behind  him  that  a  wagon 
might  have  raised.  Fear  lent  him  wings,  but  neglected 
to  lift  his  feet. 

The  Colonel  passed  his  arm  around  his  daughter,  and 
pulled  his  goatee  thoughtfully.  And  Virginia,  glancing 
shyly  upward,  saw  a  smile  in  the  creases  about  his  mouth. 
She  smiled,  too,  and  then  the  tears  hid  him  from  her. 

Strange  that  the  face  which  in  anger  withered  cowards 
and  made  men  look  grave,  was  capable  of  such  infinite 
tenderness, — tenderness  and  sorrow.  The  Colonel  took 


412  THE   CEISIS 

Virginia  in  his  arms,  and  she  sobbed  against  his  shoulder, 
as  of  old. 

"Jinny,  did  he  —  ?" 

«  Yes  —  " 

"Lige  was  right,  and  —  and  you,  Jinny  —  I  should 
never  have  trusted  him.  The  sneak !  " 

Virginia  raised  her  head.  The  sun  was  slanting  in 
yellow  bars  through  the  branches  of  the  great  trees,  and 
a  robin's  note  rose  above  the  bass  chorus  of  the  frogs. 
In  the  pauses,  as  she  listened,  it  seemed  as  if  she  could 
hear  the  silver  sound  of  the  river  over  the  pebbles  far 
below. 

"Honey,"  said  the  Colonel,  "I  reckon  we're  just  as 
poor  as  white  trash." 

Virginia  smiled  through  her  tears. 

"  Honey,"  he  said  again,  after  a  pause,  "  I  must  keep 
my  word  and  let  him  have  the  business." 

She  did  not  reproach  him. 

"  There  is  a  little  left,  a  very  little,"  he  continued 
slowly,  painfully.  "  I  thank  God  that  it  is  yours.  It  was 
left  you  by  Becky  —  by  your  mother.  It  is  in  a  railroad 
company  in  New  York,  and  safe,  Jinny." 

"  Oh,  Pa,  you  know  that  I  do  not  care,"  she  cried.  "  It 
shall  be  yours  and  mine  together.  And  we  shall  live  out 
here  and  be  happy." 

But  she  glanced  anxiously  at  him  nevertheless.  He 
was  in  his  familiar  posture  of  thought,  his  legs  slightly 
apart,  his  felt  hat  pushed  back,  stroking  his  goatee.  But 
his  clear  gray  eyes  were  troubled  as  they  sought  hers,  and 
she  put  her  hand  to  her  breast. 

"  Virginia,"  he  said,  "  I  fought  for  my  country  once,  and 
I  reckon  I'm  some  use  yet  awhile.  It  isn't  right  that  I 
should  idle  here,  while  the  South  needs  me.  Your  Uncle 
Daniel  is  fifty-eight,  and  Colonel  of  a  Pennsylvania  regi 
ment. —  Jinny,  I  have  to  go." 

Virginia  said  nothing.  It  was  in  her  blood  as  well  as 
his.  The  Colonel  had  left  his  young  wife,  to  fight  in 
Mexico  ;  he  had  come  home  to  lay  flowers  on  her  grave.  She 
knew  that  he  thought  of  this  ;  and,  too,  that  his  heart  was 


ELIPHALET   PLAYS   HIS   TRUMPS  413 

rent  at  leaving  her.  She  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders, 
and  he  stooped  to  kiss  her  trembling  lips. 

They  walked  out  together  to  the  summer-house,  and 
stood  watching  the  glory  of  the  light  on  the  western  hills. 

"  Jinny,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I  reckon  you  will  have  to 
go  to  your  Aunt  Lillian.  It — it  will  be  hard.  But  I 
know  that  my  girl  can  take  care  of  herself.  In  case  —  in 
case  I  do  not  come  back,  or  occasion  should  arise,  find 
Lige.  Let  him  take  you  to  your  Uncle  Daniel.  He  is 
fond  of  you,  and  will  be  all  alone  in  Calvert  House  when 
the  war  is  over.  And  I  reckon  that  is  all  I  have  to  say. 
I  won't  pry  into  your  heart,  honey.  If  you  love  Clarence, 
marry  him.  I  like  the  boy,  and  I  believe  he  will  quiet 
down  into  a  good  man." 

Virginia  did  not  answer,  but  reached  out  for  her  father's 
hand  and  held  its  fingers  locked  tight  in  her  own.  From 
the  kitchen  the  sound  of  Ned's  voice  rose  in  the  still  even 
ing  air. 

"  Sposin'  I  was  to  go  to  N'  Orleans  an'  take  sick  and  die, 
Laik  a  bird  into  de  country  ma  spirit  would  fly." 

And  after  a  while  down  the  path  the  red  and  yellow  of 
Mammy  Easter's  bandanna  was  seen. 

"  Supper,  Miss  Jinny.  Lawsy,  if  I  ain't  ramshacked  de 
premises  fo'  you  bof.  De  co'n  bread's  gittin'  cold." 

That  evening  the  Colonel  and  Virginia  thrust  a  few 
things  into  her  little  leather  bag  they  had  chosen  together 
in  London.  Virginia  had  found  a  cigar,  which  she  hid 
until  they  went  down  to  the  porch,  and  there  she  gave  it 
to  him;  when  he  lighted  the  match  she  saw  that  his  hand 
shook. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  held  her  in  his  arms  at  the  gate, 
and  she  heard  his  firm  tread  die  in  the  dust  of  the  road. 
The  South  had  claimed  him  at  last. 


CHAPTER   VII 

WITH   THE    ARMIES    OF    THE    WEST 

WE  are  at  Memphis,  —  for  a  while,  —  and  the  Christ 
mas  season  is  approaching  once  more.  And  yet  we 
must  remember  that  war  recognizes  no  Christmas,  nor 
Sunday,  nor  holiday.  The  brown  river,  excited  by  rains, 
whirled  seaward  between  his  banks  of  yellow  clay.  Now 
the  weather  was  crisp  and  cold,  now  hazy  and  depress 
ing,  and  again  a  downpour.  Memphis  had  never  seen 
such  activity.  A  spirit  possessed  the  place,  a  restless 
spirit  called  William  T.  Sherman.  He  prodded  Memphis 
and  laid  violent  hold  of  her.  She  groaned,  protested, 
turned  over,  and  woke  up,  peopled  by  a  new  people. 
When  these  walked,  they  ran,  and  they  wore  a  blue 
uniform.  They  spoke  rapidly  and  were  impatient.  Rain 
nor  heat  nor  tempest  kept  them  in.  And  yet  they  joked, 
and  Memphis  laughed  (what  was  left  of  her),  and  recog 
nized  a  bond  of  fellowship.  The  General  joked,  and  the 
Colonels  and  the  Commissary  and  the  doctors,  —  down  to 
the  sutlers  arid  teamsters  and  the  salt  tars  under  Porter, 
who  cursed  the  dishwater  Mississippi,  and  also  a  man 
named  Eads,  who  had  built  the  new-fangled  iron  boxes 
officially  known  as  gunboats.  The  like  of  these  had 
never  before  been  seen  in  the  waters  under  the  earth. 

The  loyal  citizens  —  loyal  to  the  South  —  had  been 
given  permission  to  leave  the  city.  The  General  told 
the  assistant  quartermaster  to  hire  their  houses  and 
slaves  for  the  benefit  of  the  Federal  Government.  Like 
wise  he  laid  down  certain  laws  to  the  Memphis  papers 
defining  treason.  He  gave  out  his  mind  freely  to  that 
other  army  of  occupation,  the  army  of  speculation,  that 
flocked  thither  with  permits  to  trade  in  cotton.  The 

414 


WITH   THE  ARMIES   OF   THE   WEST          415 

speculators  gave  the  Confederates  gold,  which  they  needed 
most,  for  the  bales,  which  they  could  not  use  at  all. 

The  forefathers  of  some  of  these  gentlemen  were  -in  old 
Egypt  under  Pharaoh  —  for  whom  they  could  have  had 
no  greater  respect  and  fear  than  their  descendants  had  in 
New  Egypt  for  Grant  or  Sherman.  Yankees  were  there 
likewise  in  abundance.  And  a  certain  acquaintance  of 
ours  materially  added  to  his  fortune  by  selling  in  Boston 
the  cotton  which  cost  him  fourteen  cents,  at  thirty  cents. 

One  day  the  shouting  and  the  swearing  and  the  run 
ning  to  and  fro  came  to  a  climax.  Those  floating  freaks 
which  were  all  top  and  drew  nothing,  were  loaded  down 
to  the  guards  with  army  stores  and  animals  and  wood 
and  men,  —  men  who  came  from  every  walk  in  life. 
Whistles  bellowed,  horses  neighed.  The  gunboats  chased 
hither  and  thither,  and  at  length  the  vast  processions 
paddled  down  the  stream  with  naval  precision,  under  the 
watchful  eyes  of  a  real  admiral. 

Residents  of  Memphis  from  the  river's  bank  watched 
the  pillar  of  smoke  fade  to  the  southward  and  ruminated 
on  the  fate  of  Vicksburg.  The  General  paced  the  deck 
in  thought.  A  little  later  he  wrote  to  the  Commander- 
in-Chief  at  Washington,  "  The  valley  of  the  Mississippi 
is  America." 

Vicksburg  taken,  this  vast  Confederacy  would  be 
chopped  in  two. 

Night  fell  to  the  music  of  the  paddles,  to  the  scent  of 
the  officers'  cigars,  to  the  blood-red  vomit  of  the  tall 
stacks  and  the  smoky  flame  of  the  torches.  Then  Christ 
mas  Day  dawned,  and  there  was  Vicksburg  lifted  two 
hundred  feet  above  the  fever  swamps,  her  court-house 
shining  in  the  morning  sun.  Vicksburg,  the  well-nigh 
impregnable  key  to  America's  highway.  When  old  Vick 
made  his  plantation  on  the  Walnut  Hills,  he  chose  a  site 
for  a  fortress  of  the  future  Confederacy  that  Vauban 
would  have  delighted  in. 

Yes,  there  were  the  Walnut  Hills,  high  bluffs  separated 
from  the  Mississippi  by  tangled  streams  and  bayous,  and 
on  their  crests  the  Parrotts  scowled.  It  was  a  queer 


416  THE   CRISIS 

Christmas  Day  indeed,  bright  and  warm  ;  no  snow,  no 
turkeys  nor  mince  pies,  no  wine,  but  just  hardtack  and 
bacon  and  foaming  brown  water. 

On  the  morrow  the  ill-assorted  fleet  struggled  up  the 
sluggish  Yazoo,  past  impenetrable  forests  where  the 
cypress  clutched  at  the  keels,  past  long-deserted  cotton  - 
fields,  until  it  came  at  last  to  the  black  ruins  of  a  home. 
In  due  time  the  great  army  was  landed.  It  spread  out 
by  brigade  and  division  and  regiment  and  company,  the 
men  splashing  and  paddling  through  the  Chickasaw  and 
the  swamps  toward  the  bluffs.  The  Parrotts  began  to 
roar.  A  certain  regiment,  boldly  led,  crossed  the  bayou 
at  a  narrow  place  and  swept  resistless  across  the  sodden 
fields  to  where  the  bank  was  steepest.  The  fire  from  the 
battery  scorched  the  hair  of  their  heads.  But  there  they 
stayed,  scooping  out  the  yellow  clay  with  torn  hands, 
while  the  Parrotts,  with  lowered  muzzles,  ploughed  the 
slope  with  shells.  There  they  stayed,  while  the  blue 
lines  quivered  and  fell  back  through  the  forests  on  that 
short  winter's  afternoon,  dragging  their  wounded  from 
the  stagnant  waters.  But  many  were  left  to  die  in 
agony  in  the  solitude. 

Like  a  tall  emblem  of  energy,  General  Sherman  stood 
watching  the  attack  and  repulse,  his  eyes  ever  alert.  He 
paid  no  heed  to  the  shells  which  tore  the  limbs  from  the 
tr^-es  about  him,  or  sent  the  swamp  water  in  thick  spray 
over  his  staff.  Now  and  again  a  sharp  word  broke  from 
his  lips,  a  forceful  home  thrust  at  one  of  the  leaders  of 
his  columns. 

"  What  regiment  stayed  under  the  bank  ?  " 

"  Sixth  Missouri,  General,"  said  an  aide,  promptly. 

The  General  sat  late  in  the  Admiral's  gunboat  that 
night,  but  when  he  returned  to  his  cabin  in  the  Forest 
Queen,  he  called  for  a  list  of  officers  of  the  Sixth  Missouri. 
His  finger  slipping  down  the  roll  paused  at  a  name  among 
the  new  second  lieutenants. 

"  Did  the  boys  get  back  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  General,  when  it  fell  dark." 

"  Let  me  see  the  casualties,  —  quick." 


WITH   THE   ARMIES   OF   THE   WEST  417 

That  night  a  fog  rolled  up  from  the  swamps,  and  in  the 
morning  jack-staff  was  hid  from  pilot-house.  Before  the 
attack  could  be  renewed,  a  political  general  came  down 
the  river  with  a  letter  in  his  pocket  from  Washington,  by 
virtue  of  which  he  took  possession  of  the  three  army  corps 
and  their  chief,  subpoenaed  the  fleet  and  the  Admiral,  and 
went  off. to  capture  Arkansas  Post. 

Vicksburg  had  a  breathing  spell. 

Three  weeks  later,  when  the  army  was  resting  at  Napo 
leon,  Arkansas,  a  self-contained  man,  with  a  red  beard, 
arrived  from  Memphis,  and  took  command.  This  was 
General  U.  S.  Grant.  He  smoked  incessantly  in  his 
cabin.  He  listened.  He  spoke  but  seldom.  He  had  a 
look  in  his  face  that  boded  ill  to  any  that  might  oppose 
him.  Time  and  labor  he  counted  as  nothing,  compared 
with  the  accomplishment  of  an  object.  Back  to  Vicks 
burg  paddled  the  fleet  and  transports.  Across  the  river 
from  the  city,  on  the  pasty  mud  behind  the  levee's  bank, 
were  dumped  Sherman's  regiments,  condemned  to  weeks 
of  ditch-digging,  that  the  gunboats  might  arrive  at  the 
bend  of  the  Mississippi  below  by  a  canal,  out  of  reach  of 
the  batteries.  Day  in  and  day  out  they  labored,  officers 
and  men.  Sawing  off  stumps  under  the  water,  knocking 
poisonous  snakes  by  scores  from  the  branches,  while  the 
river  rose  and  rose  and  rose,  and  the  rain  crept  by  inches 
under  their  tent  flies,  and  the  enemy  walked  the  parapets 
of  Vicksburg  and  laughed.  Two  gunboats  accomplished 
the  feat  of  running  the  batteries,  that  their  smiles  might 
be  sobered. 

To  the  young  officers  who  were  soiling  their  uniforms 
with  the  grease  of  saws,  whose  only  fighting  was  against 
fever  and  water  snakes,  the  news  of  an  expedition  into 
the  Vicksburg  side  of  the  river  was  hailed  with  caps  in 
the  air.  To  be  sure,  the  saw  and  axe,  and  likewise  the 
levee  and  the  snakes,  were  to  be  there,  too.  But  there  was 
likely  to  be  a  little  fighting.  The  rest  of  the  corps  that 
was  to  stay  watched  grimly  as  the  detachment  put  off  in 
the  little  Diligence  and  Silver  Wave. 

All  the  night  the  smoke-pipes  were  batting  against  the 

2fi 


418  THE   CiilSIS 

boughs  of  oak  and  cottonwood,  and  snapping  the  trailing 
vines.  Some  other  regiments  went  by  another  route. 
The  ironclads,  followed  in  hot  haste  by  General  Sherman 
in  a  navy  tug,  had  gone  ahead,  and  were  even  then  shov 
ing  with  their  noses  great  trunks  of  trees  in  their  eager 
ness  to  get  behind  the  Rebels.  The  Missouri  regiment 
spread  out  along  the  waters,  and  were  soon  waist  deep, 
hewing  a  path  for  the  heavier  transports  to  come.  Pres 
ently  the  General  came  back  to  a  plantation  half  under 
water,  where  Black  Bayou  joins  Deer  Creek,  to  hurry  the 
work  in  cleaning  out  that  Bayou.  The  light  transports 
meanwhile  were  bringing  up  more  troops  from  a  second 
detachment.  All  through  the  Friday  the  navy  great 
guns  were  heard  booming  in  the  distance,  growing  quicker 
and  quicker,  until  the  quivering  air  shook  the  hanging 
things  in  that  vast  jungle.  Saws  stopped,  and  axes  were 
poised  over  shoulders,  and  many  times  that  day  the  Gen 
eral  lifted  his  head  anxiously.  As  he  sat  down  in  the 
evening  in  a  slave  cabin  redolent  with  corn  pone  and 
bacon,  the  sound  still  hovered  among  the  trees  and  rolled 
along  the  still  waters. 

The  General  slept  lightly.  It  was  three  o'clock  Satur 
day  morning  when  the  sharp  challenge  of  a  sentry  broke 
the  silence.  A  negro,  white  eyed,  bedraggled,  and  muddy, 
stood  in  the  candle  light  under  the  charge  of  a  young 
lieutenant.  The  officer  saluted,  and  handed  the  General 
a  roll  of  tobacco. 

"  I  found  this  man  in  the  swamp,  sir.  He  has  a  mes 
sage  from  the  Admiral  —  " 

The  General  tore  open  the  roll  and  took  from  it  a  piece 
of  tissue  paper  which  he  spread  out  and  held  under  the 
candle.  He  turned  to  a  staff  officer  who  had  jumped  from 
his  bed  and  was  hurrying  into  his  coat. 

"  Porter's  surrounded,"  he  said.  The  order  came  in  a 
flash.  "  Kilby  Smith  and  all  men  here  across  creek  to 
relief  at  once.  I'll  take  canoe  through  bayou  to  Hill's 
and  hurry  reinforcements." 

The  staff  officer  paused,  his  hand  on  the  latch  of  the 
door. 


WITH   THE   ARMIES   OF   THE   WEST          419 

"  But  your  escort.  General.  You're  not  going  through 
that  sewer  in  a  canoe  without  an  escort !  " 

"  I  guess  they  won't  look  for  a  needle  in  that  haystack," 
the  General  answered.  For  a  brief  second  he  eyed  the 
lieutenant.  "  Get  back  to  your  regiment,  Brice,  if  you 
want  to  go,"  he  said. 

Stephen  saluted  and  went  out.  All  through  the  pain 
ful  march  that  followed,  though  soaked  in  swamp  water 
and  bruised  by  cypress  knees,  he  thought  of  Sherman  in 
his  canoe,  winding  unprotected  through  the  black  laby 
rinth,  risking  his  life  that  more  men  might  be  brought  to 
the  rescue  of  the  gunboats. 

The  story  of  that  rescue  has  been  told  most  graphically 
by  Sherman  himself..  How  he  picked  up  the  men  at  work 
on  the  bayou  and  marched  them  on  a  coal  barge ;  how  he 
hitched  the  barge  to  a  navy  tug  ;  how  he  met  the  little 
transport  with  a  fresh  load  of  troops,  and  Captain  Elijah 
Brent's  reply  when  the  General  asked  if  he  would  follow 
him.  "  As  long  as  the  boat  holds  together,  General." 
And  he  kept  his  word.  The  boughs  hammered  at  the 
smoke-pipes  until  they  went  by  the  board,  and  the  pilot 
house  fell  like  a  pack  of  cards  on  the  deck  before  they 
had  gone  three  miles  and  a  half.  Then  the  indomitable 
Sherman  disembarked,  a  lighted  candle  in  his  hand,  and 
led  a  stiff  march  through  thicket  and  swamp  and  breast- 
deep  backwater,  where  the  little  drummer  boys  (Tarried 
their  drums  on  their  heads.  At  length,  when  they  were 
come  to  some  Indian  mounds,  they  found  a  picket  of  three 
companies  of  the  force  which  had  reached  the  flat  the  day 
before,  and  had  been  sent  down  to  prevent  the  enemy 
from  obstructing  further  the  stream  below  the  fleet. 

"  The  Admiral's  in  a  bad  way,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel 
who  rode  up  to  meet  the  General.  "He's  landlocked. 
Those  clumsy  ironclads  of  his  can't  move  backward  or 
forward,  and  the  Rebs  have  been  peppering  him  for  two 
days." 

Just  then  a  fusillade  broke  from  the  thickets,  nipping 
the  branches  from  the  cottonwoods  about  them. 

"Form  your  line,"  said  the  General.     "Drive  'em  out." 


420  THE  CRISIS 

The  force  swept  forward,  with  the  three  picket  com 
panies  in  the  swamp  on  the  right.  And  presently  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  shapeless  ironclads  with  their  fun 
nels  belching  smoke,  a  most  remarkable  spectacle.  How 
Porter  had  pushed  them  there  was  one  of  the  miracles  of 
the  war. 

Then  followed  one  of  a  thousand  memorable  incidents  in 
the  life  of  a  memorable  man.  General  Sherman,  jumping 
on  the  bare  back  of  a  scrawny  horse,  cantered  through  the 
fields.  And  the  bluejackets,  at  sight  of  that  familiar  fig 
ure,  roared  out  a  cheer  that  might  have  shaken  the  drops 
from  the  wet  boughs.  The  Admiral  and  the  General  stood 
together  on  the  deck,  their  hands  clasped.  And  the  Colonel 
astutely  remarked,  as  he  rode  up  in  answer  to  a  summons, 
that  if  Porter  was  the  only  man  whose  daring  could  have 
pushed  a  fleet  to  that  position,  Sherman  was  certainly  the 
only  man  who  could  have  got  him  out  of  it. 

"  Colonel,"  said  the  General,  "  that  move  was  well  exe 
cuted,  sir.  Admiral,  did  the  Rebs  put  a  bullet  through 
your  rum  casks  ?  We're  just  a  little  tired.  And  now," 
he  added,  wheeling  on  the  Colonel  when  each  had  a 
glass  in  his  hand,  "  who  was  in  command  of  that  company 
on  the  right,  in  the  swamp  ?  He  handled  them  like  a 
regular." 

"  He's  a  second  lieutenant,  General,  in  the  Sixth  Mis 
souri.  Captain  wounded  at  Hindman,  and  first  lieutenant 
fell  out  down  below.  His  name  is  Brice,  I  believe." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  the  General. 

Some  few  days  afterward,  when  the  troops  were  slop 
ping  around  again  at  Young's  Point,  opposite  Vicksburg,  a 
gentleman  arrived  on  a  boat  from  St.  Louis.  He  paused  on 
the  levee  to  survey  with  concern  and  astonishment  the 
flood  of  waters  behind  it,  and  then  asked  an  officer  the 
way  to  General  Sherman's  headquarters.  The  officer,  who 
was  greatly  impressed  by  the  gentleman's  looks,  led  him 
at  once  to  a  trestle  bridge  which  spanned  the  distance  from 
the  levee  bank  over  the  flood  to  a  house  up  to  its  first  floor 
in  the  backwaters.  The  orderly  saluted. 

"  Who  shall  I  say,  sir  ?  " 


WITH   THE   AKMIES   OF   THE   WEST          421 

The  officer  looked  inquiringly  at  the  gentleman,  who 
gave  his  name. 

The  officer  could  not  repress  a  smile  at  the  next  thing 
that  happened.  Out  hurried  the  General  himself,  with 
both  hands  outstretched. 

"  Bless  my  soul  !  "  he  cried,  "  if  it  isn't  Brinsmade. 
Come  right  in,  come  right  in  and  take  dinner.  The  boys 
will  be  glad  to  see  you.  I'll  send  and  tell  Grant  you're 
here.  Brinsmade,  if  it  wasn't  for  you  and  your  friends 
on  the  Western  Sanitary  Commission,  we'd  all  have  been 
dead  of  fever  and  bad  food  long  ago."  The  General 
sobered  abruptly.  "  I  guess  a  good  many  of  the  boys  are 
laid  up  now,"  he  added. 

"  I've  come  down  to  do  what  I  can,  General,"  responded 
Mr.  Brinsmade,  gravely.  "  I  want  to  go  through  all  the 
hospitals  to  see  that  our  nurses  are  doing  their  duty  and 
that  the  stores  are  properly  distributed." 

44  You  shall,  sir,  this  minute,"  said  the  General.  He 
dropped  instantly  the  affairs  which  he  had  on  hand,  and 
without  waiting  for  dinner  the  two  gentlemen  went  to 
gether  through  the  wards  where  the  fever  raged.  The 
General  surprised  his  visitor  by  recognizing  private  after 
private  in  the  cots,  and  he  always  had  a  brief  worcl  of  cheer 
to  brighten  their  faces,  to  make  them  follow  him  with  wist 
ful  eyes  as  he  passed  beyond  them.  "  That's  poor  Craig," 
he  would  say,  "corporal,  Third  Michigan.  They  tell  me  he 
can't  live,"  and  "That's  Olcott,  Eleventh  Indiana.  Good 
God  !  "  cried  the  General,  when  they  were  out  in  the  air 
again,  "  how  I  wish  some  of  these  cotton  traders  could  get 
a  taste  of  this  fever.  They  keep  well  —  the  vultures  ! 
And  by  the  way,  Brinsmade,  the  man  who  gave  me  no 
peace  at  all  at  Memphis  was  from  your  city.  Why,  I  had 
to  keep  a  whole  corps  on  duty  to  watch  him." 

"  What  was  his  name,  sir  ?  "  Mr.  Brinsmade  asked. 

"  Hopper  !  "  cried  the  General,  with  feeling.  "  Elipha- 
let  Hopper.  As  long  as  I  live  I  shall  never  forget  it. 
How  the  devil  did  he  get  a  permit  ?  What  are  they  about 
at  Washington  ?  " 

44  You  surprise  me,"  said  Mr.    Brinsmade.      "  He  has 


422  THE   CRISIS 

always  seemed  inoffensive,  and  I  believe  he  is  a  prominent 
member  of  one  of  our  churches." 

"  I  guess  that's  so,"  answered  the  General,  dryly.  "  If 
ever  I  set  eyes  on  him  again,  he's  clapped  into  the  guard 
house.  He  knows  it,  too." 

"  Speaking  of  St.  Louis,  General,"  said  Mr.  Brinsmade, 
presently,  "have  you  ever  heard  of  Stephen  Brice  ?  He 
joined  your  army  last  autumn.  You  may  remember  talk 
ing  to  him  one  evening  at  my  house." 

"  He's  one  of  my  boys  !  "  cried  the  General.  "  Remem 
ber  him  ?  Guess  I  do  !  "  He  paused  on  the  very  brink  of 
relating  again  the  incident  at  Camp  Jackson,  when  Ste 
phen  had  saved  the  life  of  Mr.  Brinsmade's  own  son. 
"  Brinsmade,  for  three  days  I've  had  it  on  my  mind  to 
send  for  that  boy.  I'll  have  him  at  headquarters  now. 
I  like  him,"  cried  General  Sherman,  with  tone  and  gesture 
there  was  no  mistaking.  And  good  Mr.  Brinsmade,  who 
liked  Stephen,  too,  rejoiced  at  the  story  he  would  have  to 
tell  the  widow.  "  He  has  spirit,  Brinsmade.  I  told  him 
to  let  me  know  when  he  was  ready  to  go  to  war.  No  such 
thing.  He  never  came  near  me.  The  first  thing  I  hear 
of  him  is  that  he's  digging  holes  in  the  clay  of  Chickasaw 
Bluff,  and  his  cap  is  fanned  off  by  the  blast  of  a  Parrott 
six  feet  above  his  head.  Next  thing  he  turns  up  on  that 
little  expedition  we  took  to  get  Porter  to  sea  again. 
When  we  got  to  the  gunboats,  there  was  Brice's  company 
on  the  flank.  He  handled  those  men  surprisingly,  sir  — 
surprisingly.  I  shouldn't  have  blamed  the  boy  if  one  or 
two  Rebs  got  by  him.  But  no,  he  swept  the  place  clean." 
By  this  time  they  had  come  back  to  the  bridge  leading  to 
headquarters,  and  the  General  beckoned  quickly  to  an 
orderly. 

"  My  compliments  to  Lieutenant  Stephen  Brice,  Sixth 
Missouri,  and  ask  him  to  report  here  at  once.  At  once, 
you  understand  !  " 

"Yes,  General." 

It  so  happened  that  Mr.  Brice's  company  were  swing 
ing  axes  when  the  orderly  arrived,  and  Mr.  Brice  had  an 
axe  himself,  and  was  up  to  his  boot  tops  in  yellow  mud. 


WITH   THE   ARMIES   OF   THE   WEST  423 

The  orderly,  who  had  once  been  an  Iowa  farmer,  was  near 
grinning  when  he  gave  the  General's  message  and  saw  the 
lieutenant  gazing  ruefully  at  his  clothes. 

Entering  headquarters,  Stephen  paused  at  the  doorway 
of  the  big  room  where  the  officers  of  the  different  staffs 
were  scattered  about,  smoking,  while  the  negro  servants 
were  removing  the  dishes  from  the  table.  The  sunlight, 
reflected  from  the  rippling  water  outside,  danced  on 
the  ceiling.  At  the  end  of  the  room  sat  General  Sher 
man,  his  uniform,  as  always,  a  trifle  awry.  His  soft  felt 
hat  with  the  gold  braid  was  tilted  forward,  and  his  feet, 
booted  and  spurred,  were  crossed.  Small  wonder  that  the 
Englishman  who  sought  the  typical  American  found  him 
in  Sherman. 

The  sound  that  had  caught  Stephen's  attention  was  the 
General's  voice,  somewhat  high-pitched,  in  the  key  that  he 
used  in  telling  a  story.  These  were  his  closing  words  :  — 

"  Sin  gives  you  a  pretty  square  deal,  boys,  after  all. 
Generally  a  man  says,  '  Well,  I  can  resist,  but  I'll  have 
my  fun  just  this  once.'  That's  the  way  it  happens.  They 
tell  you  that  temptation  comes  irresistibly.  Don't  believe 
it.  Do  you,  Mr.  Brice  ?  Come  over  here,  sir.  Here's 
a  friend  of  yours." 

Stephen  made  his  way  to  the  General,  whose  bright 
eyes  wandered  rapidly  over  him  as  he  added  :  — 

"  This  is  the  condition  my  officers  report  in,  Brinsmade, 
—  mud  from  head  to  heel." 

Stephen  had  sense  enough  to  say  nothing,  but  the  staff 
officers  laughed,  and  Mr.  Brinsmade  smiled  as  he  rose  and 
took  Stephen's  hand. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  that  you  are  well,  sir,"  said  he, 
with  that  formal  kindliness  which  endeared  him  to  all. 
"  Your  mother  will  be  rejoiced  at  my  news  of  you.  You 
will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  left  her  well,  Stephen." 

Stephen  inquired  for  Mrs.  Brinsmade  and  Anne. 

"  They  are  well,  sir,  and  took  pleasure  in  adding  to  a 
little  box  which  your  mother  sent.  Judge  Whipple  put 
in  a  box  of  fine  cigars,  although  he  deplores  the  use  of 
tobacco." 


424  THE   CEISIS 

"  And  the  Judge,  Mr.  Brinsmade  —  how  is  he  ?  " 

The  good  gentleman's  face  fell. 

"  He  is  ailing,  sir,  it  grieves  me  to  say.  He  is  in  bed, 
sir.  But  he  is  ably  looked  after.  Your  mother  desired 
to  have  him  moved  to  her  house,  but  he  is  difficult  to  stir 
from  his  ways,  and  he  would  not  leave  his  little  room. 
He  is  ably  nursed.  We  have  got  old  Nancy,  Hester's 
mother,  to  stay  with  him  at  night,  and  Mrs.  Brice  divides 
the  day  with  Miss  Jinny  Carvel,  who  comes  in  from  Belle- 
garde  every  afternoon." 

"  Miss  Carvel  ? "  exclaimed  Stephen,  wondering  if  he 
heard  aright.  And  at  the  mention  of  her  name  he  tingled. 

"  None  other,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Brinsmade.  "  She 
has  been  much  honored  for  it.  You  may  remember  that 
the  Judge  was  a  close  friend  of  her  father's  before  the 
war.  And  —  well,  they  quarrelled,  sir.  The  Colonel 
went  South,  you  know." 

"  When  —  when  was  the  Judge  taken  ill,  Mr.  Brins 
made  ? "  Stephen  asked.  The  thought  of  Virginia  and 
his  mother  caring  for  him  together  was  strangely  sweet. 

"  Two  days  before  I  left,  sir,  Dr.  Polk  had  warned  him 
not  to  do  so  much.  But  the  Doctor  tells  me  that  he  can 
see  no  dangerous  symptoms." 

Stephen  inquired  now  of  Mr.  Brinsmade  how  long  he 
was  to  be  with  them. 

"  I  am  going  on  to  the  other  camps  this  afternoon," 
said  he.  "  But  I  should  like  a  glimpse  of  your  quarters, 
Stephen,  if  you  will  invite  me.  Your  mother  would  like 
a  careful  account  of  you,  and  Mr.  Whipple,  and  —  your 
many  friends  in  St.  Louis." 

"  You  will  find  my  tent  a  little  wet,  sir,"  replied 
Stephen,  touched. 

Here  the  General,  who  had  been  sitting  by  watching 
them  with  a  very  curious  expression,  spoke  up. 

"  That's  hospitality  for  you,  Brinsmade  !  " 

Stephen  and  Mr.  Brinsmade  made  their  way  across 
plank  and  bridge  to  Stephen's  tent,  and  his  mess  servant 
arrived  in  due  time  with  the  package  from  home.  But 
presently,  while  they  sat  talking  of  many  things,  the  can- 


WITH   THE   ARMIES   OF   THE   WEST  425 

vas  of  the  fly  was  thrust  back  with  a  quick  movement, 
and  who  should  come  stooping  in  but  General  Sherman 
himself.  He  sat  down  on  a  cracker  box.  Stephen  rose 
confusedly. 

"  Well,  well,  Brice,"  said  the  General,  winking  at  Mr. 
Brinsmade,  "  I  think  you  might  have  invited  me  to  the 
feast.  Where  are  those  cigars  Mr.  Brinsmade  was  talk 
ing  about  ?  " 

Stephen  opened  the  box  with  alacrity.  The  General 
chose  one  and  lighted  it. 

"  Don't  smoke,  eh  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Why,  yes,  sir,  when  I  can." 

"  Then  light  up,  sir,"  said  the  General,  "  and  sit  down. 
I've  been  thinking  lately  of  court-martialling  you,  but 
I  decided  to  come  'round  and  talk  it  over  with  you  first. 
That  isn't  strictly  according  to  the  rules  of  the  service. 
Look  here,  Mr.  Brice,  why  did  you  leave  St.  Louis  ?  " 

"  They  began  to  draft,  sir,  and  I  couldn't  stand  it  any 
longer." 

"  But  you  wouldn't  have  been  drafted.  You  were  in 
the  Home  Guards,  if  I  remember  right.  And  Mr.  Brins 
made  tells  me  you  were  useful  in  many  ways.  What  was 
your  rank  in  the  Home  Guards  ?  " 

"  Lieutenant  colonel,  sir." 

"  And  what  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  A  second  lieutenant  in  temporary  command,  General." 

"  You  have  commanded  men  ?  " 

"Not  in  action,  sir.     I  felt  that  that  was  different. " 

"Couldn't  they  do  better  for  you  than  a  second-lreu- 
tenancy  ?  " 

Stephen  did  not  reply  at  once.  Mr.  Brinsmade  spoke 
up. 

"They  offered  him  a  lieutenant-colonelcy." 

The  General  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  he  said  : 
"  Do  you  remember  meeting  me  on  the  boat  when  I  was 
leaving  St.  Louis,  after  the  capture  of  Fort  Henry  ?  " 

Stephen  smiled.     "  Very  well,  General,"  he  replied. 

General  Sherman  leaned  forward. 

"  And  do  you  remember   I  said  to  you,  4  Brice,  when 


426  THE   CRISIS 

you  get  ready  to  come  into  this  war,  let  me  know.'  Why 
didn't  you  do  it  ?  " 

Stephen  thought  a  minute.  Then  he  said  gravely,  but 
with  just  a  suspicion  of  humor  about  his  mouth :  — 

"  General,  if  I  had  done  that,  you  wouldn't  be  here  in 
my  tent  to-day." 

Like  lightning  the  General  was  on  his  feet,  his  hand 
on  Stephen's  shoulder. 

"  By  gad,  sir,"  he  cried,  delighted,  "so  I  wouldn't." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

A   STRANGE  MEETING 

THE  story  of  the  capture  of  Vicksburg  is  the  old,  old 
story  of  failure  turned  into  success,  by  which  man  is  made 
immortal.  It  involves  the  history  of  a  general  who  never 
retraced  his  steps,  who  cared  neither  for  mugwump  mur 
murs  nor  political  cabals,  who  took  both  blame  and  praise 
with  equanimity.  Through  month  after  month  of  dis 
couragement,  and  work  gone  for  naught,  and  fever  and 
death,  his  eyes  never  left  his  goal.  And  by  grace  of  the 
wisdom  of  that  President  who  himself  knew  sorrow  and 
suffering  and  defeat  and  unjust  censure,  General  Grant 
won. 

Boldness  did  it.  The  canal  abandoned,  one  red  night 
fleet  and  transports  swept  around  the  bend  and  passed  the 
city's  heights,  on  a  red  river.  The  Parrotts  and  the  Dahl- 
grens  roared,  and  the  high  bluffs  flung  out  the  sound  over 
the  empty  swamp  land. 

Then  there  came  the  landing  below,  and  the  cutting 
loose  from  a  base  —  unheard  of.  Corps  behind  cursed 
corps  ahead  for  sweeping  the  country  clear  of  forage. 
Battles  were  fought.  Confederate  generals  in  Mississippi 
were  bewildered. 

One  night,  while  crossing  with  his  regiment  a  pontoon 
bridge,  Stephen  Brice  heard  a  shout  raised  on  the  farther 
shore.  Sitting  together  on  a  log  under  a  torch,  two  men 
in  slouch  hats  were  silhouetted.  That  one  talking  with 
rapid  gestures  was  General  Sherman.  The  impassive  pro 
file  of  the  other,  —  the  close-cropped  beard  and  the  firmly 
held  cigar  that  seemed  to  go  with  it,  —  Stephen  recognized 
as  that  of  the  strange  Captain  Grant  who  had  stood  beside 
him  in  the  street  by  the  Arsenal.  He  had  not  changed  a 

427 


428  THE   CRISIS 

whit.  Motionless,  he  watched  corps  after  corps  splash  by, 
artillery,  cavalry,  and  infantry,  nor  gave  any  sign  that  he 
heard  their  plaudits. 

At  length  the  army  came  up  behind  the  city  to  a  place 
primeval,  where  the  face  of  the  earth  was  sore  and  tor 
tured,  worn  into  deep  gorges  by  the  rains,  and  flung  up 
in  great  mounds.  Stripped  of  the  green  magnolias  and 
the  cane,  the  banks  of  clay  stood  forth  in  hideous  yellow 
nakedness,  save  for  a  lonely  stunted  growth,  or  a  bare 
trunk  that  still  stood  tottering  on  the  edge  of  a  bank, 
its  pitiful  withered  roots  reaching  out  below.  The  May 
weather  was  already  sickly  hot. 

First  of  all  there  was  a  murderous  assault,  and  a  still 
more  murderous  repulse.  Three  times  the  besiegers 
charged,  sank  their  color  staffs  into  the  redoubts,  and  three 
times  were  driven  back.  Then  the  blue  army  settled  into 
the  earth  and  folded  into  the  ravines.  Three  days  in  that 
narrow  space  between  the  lines  lay  the  dead  and  wounded 
suffering  untold  agonies  in  the  moist  heat.  Then  came  a 
truce  to  bury  the  dead,  to  bring  back  what  was  left  of  the 
living. 

The  doomed  city  had  no  rest.  Like  clockwork  from 
the  Mississippi's  banks  beyond  came  the  boom  and  shriek 
of  the  coehorns  on  the  barges.  The  big  shells  hung 
for  an  instant  in  the  air  like  birds  of  prey,  and  then  could 
be  seen  swooping  down  here  and  there,  while  now  and 
anon  a  shaft  of  smoke  rose  straight  to  the  sky,  the  black 
monument  of  a  home. 

Here  was  work  in  the  trenches,  digging  the  flying  sap 
by  night  and  deepening  it  by  day,  for  officers  and  men 
alike.  From  heaven  a  host  of  blue  ants  could  be  seen 
toiling  in  zigzags  forward,  ever  forward,  along  the  rude 
water-cuts  and  through  the  hills.  A  waiting  carrion  from 
her  vantage  point  on  high  marked  one  spot  and  then  an 
other  where  the  blue  ants  disappeared,  and  again  one  by 
one  came  out  of  the  burrow  to  hurry  down  the  trench,  — 
each  with  his  ball  of  clay. 

In  due  time  the  ring  of  metal  and  sepulchred  voices 
rumbled  in  the  ground  beneath  the  besieged.  Counter- 


A   STRANGE   MEETING  429 

mines  were  started,  and  through  the  narrow  walls  of  earth 
commands  and  curses  came.  Above  ground  the  saps  were 
so  near  that  a  strange  converse  became  the  rule.  It  was 
"  Hello,  Reb  !  "  "  Howdy,  Yank  !  "  Both  sides  were  starv 
ing,  the  one  for  tobacco  and  the  other  for  hardtack  and 
bacon.  These  necessities  were  tossed  across,  sometimes 
wrapped  in  the  Vicksburg  news-sheet  printed  on  the  white 
side  of  a  homely  green  wall  paper.  At  other  times  other 
amenities  were  indulged  in.  Hand-grenades  were  thrown 
and  shells  with  lighted  fuses  rolled  down  on  the  heads 
of  acquaintances  of  the  night  before,  who  replied  from 
wooden  coehorns  hooped  with  iron. 

The  Union  generals  learned  (common  item  in  a  siege) 
that  the  citizens  of  Vicksburg  were  eating  mule  meat. 

Not  an  officer  or  private  in  the  Vicksburg  armies  who 
does  not  remember  the  25th  of  June,  and  the  hour  of  three 
in  an  afternoon  of  pitiless  heat.  Silently  the  long  blue 
files  wound  into  position  behind  the  earth  barriers  which 
hid  them  from  the  enemy,  coiled  and  ready  to  strike  when 
the  towering  redoubt  on  the  Jackson  road  should  rise 
heavenwards.  By  common  consent  the  rifle  crack  of  day 
and  night  was  hushed,  and  even  the  Parrotts  were  silent. 
Stillness  closed  around  the  white  house  of  Shirley  once 
more,  but  not  the  stillness  it  had  known  in  its  peaceful 
homestead  days.  This  was  the  stillness  of  the  death- 
prayer.  Eyes  staring  at  the  big  redoubt  were  dimmed. 
At  last,  to  those  near,  a  little  wisp  of  blue  smoke  crept 
out. 

Then  the  earth  opened  with  a  quake.  The  sun  was 
darkened,  and  a  hot  blast  fanned  the  upturned  faces.  In 
the  sky,  through  the  film  of  shattered  clay,  little  black  dots 
scurried,  poised,  and  fell  again  as  arms  and  legs  and  head 
less  trunks  and  shapeless  bits  of  wood  and  iron.  Scarcely 
had  the  dust  settled  when  the  sun  caught  the  light  of  fifty 
thousand  bayonets,  and  a  hundred  shells  were  shrieking 
across  the  crater's  edge.  Earth  to  earth,  alas,  and  dust  to 
dust  !  Men  who  ran  across  that  rim  of  a  summer's  after 
noon  died  in  torture  under  tier  upon  tier  of  their  comrades, 
—  and  so  the  hole  was  filled. 


430  THE   CRISIS 

An  upright  cannon  marks  the  spot  where  a  scrawny  oak 
once  stood  on  a  scarred  and  baked  hillside,  outside  of  the 
Confederate  lines  at  Vicksburg.  Under  the  scanty  shade 
of  that  tree,  on  the  eve  of  the  Nation's  birthday,  stood 
two  men  who  typified  the  future  and  the  past.  As  at 
Donelson,  a  trick  of  Fortune's  had  delivered  one  comrade 
of  old  into  the  hands  of  another.  Now  she  chose  to 
kiss  the  one  upon  whom  she  had  heaped  obscurity  and 
poverty  and  contumely.  He  had  ceased  to  think  or  care 
about  Fortune.  And  hence,  being  born  a  woman,  she 
favored  him. 

The  two  armies  watched  and  were  still.  They  noted 
the  friendly  greeting  of  old  comrades,  and  after  that  they 
saw  the  self-contained  Northerner  biting  his  cigar,  as  one 
to  whom  the  pleasantries  of  life  were  past  and  gone.  The 
South  saw  her  General  turn  on  his  heel.  The  bitterness 
of  his  life  was  come.  Both  sides  honored  him  for  the 
fight  he  had  made.  But  war  does  not  reward  a  man 
according  to  his  deserts. 

The  next  day  —  the  day  our  sundered  nation  was  born — 
Vicksburg  surrendered  :  the  obstinate  man  with  the  mighty 
force  had  conquered.  See  the  gray  regiments  marching 
silently  in  the  tropic  heat  into  the  folds  of  that  blue  army 
whose  grip  has  choked  them  at  last.  Silently,  too,  the  blue 
coats  stand,  pity  and  admiration  on  the  brick-red  faces. 
The  arms  are  stacked  and  surrendered,  officers  and  men 
are  to  be  parolled  when  the  counting  is  finished.  The 
formations  melt  away,  and  those  who  for  months  have 
sought  each  other's  lives  are  grouped  in  friendly  talk.  The 
coarse  army  bread  is  drawn  eagerly  from  the  knapsacks 
of  the  blue,  smoke  quivers  above  a  hundred  fires,  and  the 
smell  of  frying  bacon  brings  a  wistful  look  into  the  gaunt 
faces.  Tears  stand  in  the  eyes  of  many  a  man  as  he  eats 
the  food  his  Yankee  brothers  have  given  him  on  the  birth 
day  of  their  country. 

Within  the  city  it  is  the  same.  Stephen  Brice,  now  a 
captain  in  General  Laumari's  brigade,  sees  with  thanks 
giving  the  stars  and  stripes  flutter  from  the  dome  of  that 
court-house  which  he  had  so  long  watched  from  afar. 


A   STRANGE   MEETING  431 

Later  on,  down  a  side  street,  he  pauses  before  a  house  with 
its  face  blown  away.  On  the  verge  of  one  of  its  jagged 
floors  is  an  old  four-posted  bed,  and  beside  it  a  child's  cot 
is  standing  pitifully,  —  the  tiny  pillow  still  at  the  head 
and  the  little  sheets  thrown  across  the  foot.  So  much  for 
one  of  the  navy's  shells. 

While  he  was  thinking  of  the  sadness  of  it  all,  a  little 
scene  was  acted  :  the  side  door  of  the  house  opened,  a 
weeping  woman  came  out,  and  with  her  was  a  tall  Con 
federate  Colonel  of  cavalry.  Gallantly  giving  her  his 
arm,  he  escorted  her  as  far  as  the  little  gate,  where  she 
bade  him  good  by  with  much  feeling.  With  an  impulsive 
movement  he  drew  some  money  from  his  pocket,  thrust  it 
upon  her,  and  started  hurriedly  away  that  he  might  not 
listen  to  her  thanks.  Such  was  his  preoccupation  that  he 
actually  brushed  into  Stephen,  who  was  standing  beside  a 
tree.  He  stopped  and  bowed. 

"  Excuse  me,  seh,"  he  said  contritely.  "  I  beg  your 
pardon,  seh." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Stephen,  smiling  ;  "  it  was  my  fault 
for  getting  in  your  way." 

"  Not  at  all,  seh,"  said  the  cavalry  Colonel ;  "  my  clum 
siness,  seh."  He  did  not  pass  on,  but  stood  pulling  with 
some  violence  a  very  long  mustache.  "  Damn  you  Yan 
kees,"  he  continued,  in  the  same  amiable  tone,  "you've 
brought  us  a  heap  of  misfortune.  Why,  seh,  in  another 
week  we'd  been  fo'ced  to  eat  niggers." 

The  Colonel  made  such  a  wry  face  that  Stephen  laughed 
in  spite  of  himself.  He  had  marked  the  man's  charitable 
action,  and  admired  his  attempt  to  cover  it.  The  Colonel 
ssemed  to  be  all  breadth,  like  a  card.  His  shoulders  were 
incredible.  The  face  was  scant,  perchance  from  lack  of 
food,  the  nose  large,  with  a  curved  rim,  and  the  eyes  blue- 
gray.  He  wore  clay-flecked  cavalry  boots,  and  was  six 
feet  five  if  an  inch,  so  that  Stephen's  six  seemed  insignifi 
cant  beside  him. 

"  Captain,"  he  said,  taking  in  Stephen's  rank,  "  we  won't 
qua'l  as  to  who'se  host  heah.  One  thing's  suah,"  he 
added,  with  a  twinkle,  "  I've  been  heah  longest.  Seems 


432  THE  CRISIS 

like  ten  yeahs  since  I  saw  the  wife  and  children  down  in 
the  Palmetto  State.  I  can't  offer  you  a  dinner,  seh. 
We've  eaten  all  the  mules  and  rats  and  sugar  cane  in 
town."  (His  eye  seemed  to  interpolate  that  Stephen 
wouldn't  be  there  otherwise.)  "But  I  can  offer  you 
something  choicer  than  you  have  in  the  No'th." 

Whereupon  he  drew  from  his  hip  a  dented  silver  flask. 
The  Colonel  remarked  that  Stephen's  eyes  fell  on  the 
coat  of  arms. 

"  Prope'ty  of  my  grandfather,  seh,  of  Washington's 
Army.  My  name  is  Jennison,  —  Catesby  Jennison,  at 
your  service,  seh,"  he  said.  "  You  have  the  advantage 
of  me,  Captain." 

"My  name  is  Brice,"  said  Stephen. 

The  big  Colonel  bowed  decorously,  held  out  a  great, 
wide  hand,  and  thereupon  unscrewed  the  flask.  Now 
Stephen  had  never  learned  to  like  straight  whiskey,  but  he 
took  down  his  share  without  a  face.  The  exploit  seemed 
to  please  the  Colonel,  who,  after  he  likewise  had  done 
the  liquor  justice,  screwed  on  the  lid  with  ceremony, 
offered  Stephen  his  arm  with  still  greater  ceremony,  and 
they  walked  off  down  the  street  together.  Stephen  drew 
from  his  pocket  several  of  Judge  Whipple's  cigars,  to 
which  his  new  friend  gave  unqualified  praise. 

On  every  hand  Vicksburg  showed  signs  of  hard  usage. 
Houses  with  gaping  chasms  in  their  sides,  others  mere 
heaps  of  black  ruins  ;  great  trees  felled,  cabins  demol 
ished,  and  here  and  there  the  sidewalk  ploughed  across 
from  curb  to  fence. 

"  Lordy,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel.  "  Lordy  !  how  my 
ears  ache  since  your  damned  coehorns  have  stopped.  The 
noise  got  to  be  silence  with  us,  seh,  and  yesterday  I  reck 
oned  a  hundred  volcanoes  had  bust.  Tell  me,"  said  he  : 
"  when  the  redoubt  over  the  Jackson  road  was  blown  up, 
they  said  a  nigger  came  down  in  your  lines  alive.  Is 
that  so?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Stephen,  smiling  ;  "  he  struck  near  the  place 
where  my  company  was  stationed.  His  head  ached  a  bit. 
That  seemed  to  be  all." 


A   STRANGE   MEETING  433 

"  I  reckon  he  fell  on  it,"  said  Colonel  Catesby  Jennison, 
as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  no  special  note. 

"  And  now  tell  me  something,"  said  Stephen.  "  How 
did  you  burn  our  sap-rollers  ?  " 

This  time  the  Colonel  stopped,  and  gave  himself  up  to 
hearty  laughter. 

"  Why,  that  was  a  Yankee  trick,  sure  enough,"  he  cried. 
"  Some  ingenious  cuss  soaked  port  fire  in  turpentine,  and 
shot  the  wad  in  a  large-bore  musket." 

"  We  thought  you  used  explosive  bullets." 

The  Colonel  laughed  again,  still  more  heartily. 

"Explosive  bullets  !  Good  Lord,  it  was  all  we  could 
do  to  get  percussion  caps.  Do  you  know  how  we  got 
percussion  caps,  seh  ?  Three  of  our  officers  —  dare-devils, 
seh  —  floated  down  the  Mississippi  on  logs.  One  fellow 
made  his  way  back  with  two  hundred  thousand.  He's  the 
pride  of  our  Vicksburg  army.  Not  afraid  of  hell.  A 
chivalrous  man,  a  forlorn -hope  man.  The  night  you  ran 
the  batteries  he  and  some  others  went  across  to  your  side 
in  skiffs  —  in  skiffs,  seh,  I  say  —  and  set  fire  to  the  houses 
in  De  Soto,  that  we  might  see  to  shoot.  And  then  he  came 
back  in  the  face  of  our  own  batteries  and  your  guns.  That 
man  was  wounded  by  a  trick  of  fate,  by  a  cussed  bit  of  shell 
from  your  coehorns  while  eating  his  dinner  in  Vicksburg. 
He's  pretty  low,  now,  poor  fellow,"  added  the  Colonel,  sadly. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  demanded  Stephen,  fired  with  a  desire 
to  see  the  man. 

"  Well,  he  ain't  a  great  ways  from  here,"  said  the  Colonel. 
"  Perhaps  you  might  be  able  to  do  something  for  him,"  he 
continued  thoughtfully.  "  I'd  hate  to  see  him  die.  The 
doctor  says  he'll  pull  through  if  he  can  get  care  and  good 
air  and  good  food."  He  seized  Stephen's  arm  in  a  fierce 
grip.  "  You  ain't  fooling  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Indeed  I  am  not,"  said  Stephen. 

"  No,"  said  the  Colonel,  thoughtfully,  as  to  himself,  "  you 
don't  look  like  the  man  to  fool." 

Whereupon  he  set  out  with  great  strides,  in  marked  con 
trast  to  his  former  languorous  gait,  and  after  a  while  they 
came  to  a  sort  of  gorge,  where  the  street  ran  between  high 

2F 


434  THE   CRISIS 

banks  of  clay.  There  Stephen  saw  the  magazines  which 
the  Confederates  had  dug  out,  and  of  which  he  had  heard. 
But  he  saw  something,  too,  of  which  he  had  not  heard. 
Colonel  Catesby  Jennison  stopped  before  an  open  door 
way  in  the  yellow  bank  and  knocked.  A  woman's  voice 
called  softly  to  him  to  enter. 

They  went  into  a  room  hewn  out  of  the  solid  clay.  Car 
pet  was  stretched  on  the  floor,  paper  was  on  the  walls,-  and 
even  a  picture.  There  was  a  little  window  cut  like  a  port 
in  a  prison  cell,  and  under  it  a  bed,  beside  which  a  middle- 
aged  lady  was  seated.  She  had  a  kindly  face  which  seemed 
to  Stephen  a  little  pinched  as  she  turned  to  them  with  a 
gesture  of  restraint.  She  pointed  to  the  bed,  where  a 
sheet  lay  limply  over  the  angles  of  a  wasted  frame.  The 
face  was  to  the  wall. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  lady,  "  it  is  the  first  time  in  two 
days  that  he  has  slept." 

But  the  sleeper  stirred  wearily,  and  woke  with  a  start. 
He  turned  over.  The  face,  so  yellow  and  peaked,  was  of 
the  type  that  grows  even  more  handsome  in  sickness,  and 
in  the  great  fever-stricken  eyes  a  high  spirit  burned. 
For  an  instant  only  the  man  stared  at  Stephen,  and  then 
he  dragged  himself  to  the  wall. 

The  eyes  of  the  other  two  were  both  fixed  on  the  young 
Union  Captain. 

"  My  God  !  "  cried  Jennison,  seizing  Stephen's  rigid 
arm,  "does  he  look  as  bad  as  that?  We've  seen  him 
every  day." 

"I  —  I  know  him,"  answered  Stephen.  He  stepped 
quickly  to  the  bedside,  and  bent  over  it.  "  Colfax  !  "  he 
said.  "  Colfax  !  " 

"This  is  too  much,  Jennison,"  came  from  the  bed  a 
voice  that  was  pitifully  weak ;  "  why  do  you  bring 
Yankees  in  here  ?  " 

"  Captain  Brice  is  a  friend  of  yours,  Colfax,"  said  the 
Colonel,  tugging  at  his  mustache. 

"  Brice  ?  "  repeated  Clarence,  "  Brice  ?  Does  he  come 
from  St.  Louis  ?  " 

"  Do  you  come  from  St.  Louis,  sir  ?  " 


A   STRANGE   MEETING  435 

"  Yes.     I  have  met  Captain  Colfax  —  " 

"  Colonel,  sir." 

"  Colonel  Colfax,  before  the  war.  And  if  he  would  like 
to  go  to  St.  Louis,  I  think  I  can  have  it  arranged  at  once." 

In  silence  they  waited  for  Clarence's  answer.  Stephen 
well  knew  what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  guessed 
at  his  repugnance  to  accept  a  favor  from  a  Yankee.  He 
wondered  whether  there  was  in  this  case  a  special  detesta 
tion.  And  so  his  mind  was  carried  far  to  the  northward 
to  the  memory  of  that  day  in  the  summer-house  on  vthe 
Meramec  heights.  Virginia  had  not  loved  her  cousin 
then  —  of  that  Stephen  was  sure.  But  now,  —  now  that 
the  Vicksburg  army  was  ringing  with  his  praise,  now  that 
he  was  unfortunate —  Stephen  sighed.  His  comfort 
was  that  he  would  be  the  instrument. 

The  lady  in  her  uneasiness  smoothed  the  single  sheet 
that  covered  the  sick  man.  From  afar  came  the  sound  of 
cheering,  and  it  was  this  that  seemed  to  rouse  him.  He 
faced  them  again,  impatiently. 

"  I  have  reason  to  remember  Mr.  Brice,"  he  said 
steadily.  And  then,  with  some  vehemence,  "  What  is  he 
doing  in  Vicksburg?" 

Stephen  looked  at  Jennison,  who  winced. 

"  The  city  has  surrendered,"  said  that  officer. 

They  counted  on  a  burst  of  anger.  Colfax  only 
groaned. 

"  Then  you  can  afford  to  be  generous,"  he  said,  with  a 
bitter  laugh.  "  But  you  haven't  whipped  us  yet,  by  a 
good  deal.  Jennison,"  he  cried,  "  Jennison,  why  in  hell  did 
you  give  up?" 

"  Colfax,"  said  Stephen,  coming  forward,  "  you're  too 
sick  a  man  to  talk.  I'll  look  up  the  General.  It  may  be 
that  I  can  have  you  sent  North -to-day." 

"  You  can  do  as  you  please,"  said  Clarence,  coldly,  "  with 
a  prisoner." 

The  blood  rushed  to  Stephen's  face.  Bowing  to  the 
lady,  he  strode  out  of  the  room.  Colonel  Jennison,  run 
ning  after  him,  caught  him  in  the  street. 

"You're  not  offended,  Brice  ?  "  he  said.     "  He's  sick  — 


436  THE   CKISIS 

and  God  Almighty,  he's  proud  —  I  reckon,"  he  added 
with  a  touch  of  humility  that  went  straight  to  Stephen's 
heart.  "  I  reckon  that  some  of  us  are  too  derned  proud  — 
But  we  ain't  cold." 

Stephen  grasped  his  hand. 

"  Offended  !  "  he  said.  "  I  admire  the  man.  I'll  go  to 
the  General  directly.  But  just  let  me  thank  you.  And 
I  hope,  Colonel,  that  we  may  meet  again  —  as  friends." 

"  Hold  on,  seh,"  said  Colonel  Catesby  Jennison ;  "  we 
may  as  well  drink  to  that." 

Fortunately,  as  Stephen  drew  near  the  Court  House, 
he  caught  sight  of  a  group  of  officers  seated  on  its  steps, 
and  among  them  he  was  quick  to  recognize  General 
Sherman. 

"  Brice,"  said  the  General,  returning  his  salute,  "  been 
celebrating  this  glorious  Fourth  with  some  of  our  Rebel 
friends  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Stephen,  "  and  I  came  to  ask  a 
favor  for  one  of  them."  Seeing  that  the  General's  genial, 
interested  expression  did  not  change,  he  was  emboldened 
to  go  on.  "  This  is  one  of  their  colonels,  sir.  You  may 
have  heard  of  him.  He  is  the  man  who  floated  down  the 
river  on  a  log  and  brought  back  two  hundred  thousand 
percussion  caps  —  " 

"  Good  Lord,"  interrupted  the  General,  "  I  guess  we 
all  heard  of  him  after  that.  What  else  has  he  done  to 
endear  himself  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  smile. 

"  Well,  General,  he  rowed  across  the  river  in  a  skiff  the 
night  we  ran  these  batteries,  and  set  fire  to  De  Soto  to 
make  targets  for  their  gunners." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  that  man,"  said  the  General,  in  his 
eager  way.  "  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"What  I  was  going  to  tell  you,  sir.  After  he  went 
through  all  this,  he  was  hit  by  a  piece  of  mortar  shell, 
while  sitting  at  his  dinner.  He's  rather  far  gone  now, 
General,  and  they  say  he  can't  live  unless  he  can  be 
sent  North.  I  —  I  know  who  he  is  in  St.  Louis.  And 
I  thought  that  as  long  as  the  officers  are  to  be  paroled  1 
might  get  your  permission  to  send  him  up  to-day." 


A   STRANGE   MEETING  437 

"  What's  his  name  ?  " 

"  Coif  ax,  sir." 

The  General  laughed.  "  I  know  the  breed,"  said  he. 
"I'll  bet  he  didn't  thank  you." 

"No,  sir,  he  didn't." 

"  I  like  his  grit,"  said  the  General,  emphatically. 
"  These  young  bloods  are  the  backbone  of  this  rebellion, 
Brice.  They  were  made  for  war.  They  never  did  any 
thing  except  horse-racing  and  cock-fighting.  They  ride 
like  the  devil,  fight  like  the  devil,  but  don't  care  a  picayune 
for  anything.  Walker  had  some  of  'em.  Crittenden  had 
some.  And,  good  Lord,  how  they  hate  a  Yankee  !  I 
know  this  Colfax,  too.  He's  a  cousin  of  that  fine-looking 
girl  Brinsmade  spoke  of.  They  say  he's  engaged  to  her. 
Be  a  pity  to  disappoint  her  —  eh  ?  " 

"Yes,  General." 

"  Why,  Captain,  I  believe  you  would  like  to  marry  her 
yourself  !  Take  my  advice,  sir,  and  don't  try  to  tame 
any  wildcats." 

"  I'm  glad  to  do  a  favor  for  that  young  man,"  said  the 
General,  when  Stephen  had  gone  off  with  the  slip  of  paper 
he  had  given  him.  "  I  like  to  do  that  kind  of  a  favor  for 
any  officer,  when  I  can.  Did  you  notice  how  he  flared 
up  when  I  mentioned  the  girl  ?  " 

This  is  why  Clarence  Colfax  found  himself  that  evening 
on  a  hospital  steamer  of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  bound 
north  for  St.  Louis. 


CHAPTER   IX 

BELLEGAKDE   QNCE    MOKE 

SUPPER  at  Bellegarde  was  not  the  simple  meal  it  had 
been  for  a  year  past  at  Colonel  Carvel's  house  in  town. 
Mrs.  Colfax  was  proud  of  her  table,  proud  of  her  fried 
chickens  and  corn  fritters  and  her  desserts.  How  Vir 
ginia  chafed  at  those  suppers,  and  how  she  despised  the 
guests  whom  her  aunt  was  in  the  habit  of  inviting  to  some 
of  them  !  And  when  none  were  present,  she  was  forced 
to  listen  to  Mrs.  Colfax's  prattle  about  the  fashions,  her 
tirades  against  the  Yankees.  * 

"  I'm  sure  he  must  be  dead,"  said  that  lady,  one  sultry 
evening  in  July.  .Her  tone,  however,  was  not  one  of  convic 
tion.  A  lazy  wind  from  the  river  stirred  the  lawn  of  Vir 
ginia's  gown.  The  girl,  with  her  hand  on  the  wicker  back 
of  the  chair,  was  watching  a  storm  gather  to  the  eastward, 
across  the  Illinois  prairie. 

"I  don't  see  why  you  say  that,  Aunt  Lillian,"  she  re 
plied.  uBad  news  travels  faster  than  good." 

"  And  not  a  word  from  Comyn.  It  is  cruel  of  him  not 
to  send  us  a  line,  telling  us  where  his  regiment  is." 

Virginia  did  not  reply.  She  had  long  since  learned 
that  the  wisdom  of  silence  was  the  best  for  her  aunt's  un 
reasonableness.  Certainly,  if  Clarence's  letters  could 
not  pass  the  close  lines  of  the  Federal  troops,  news  of 
her  father's  Texas  regiment  could  not  come  from  Red 
River. 

"  How  was  Judge  Whipple  to-day  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Col- 
fax,  presently. 

"Very  weak.     He  doesn't  seem  to  improve  much." 

"  I  can't  see  why  Mrs.  Brice,  —  isn't  that  her  name  ?  — 
doesn't  take  him  to  her  house.      Yankee  women  are  such 
prudes." 


BELLEGARDE   ONCE   MORE  439 

Virginia  began  to  rock  slowly,  and  her  foot  tapped  the 
porch. 

"  Mrs.  Brice  has  begged  the  Judge  to  come  to  her. 
But  he  says  he  has  lived  in  those  rooms,  and  that  he  will 
die  there,  —  when  the  time  comes." 

4t  How  you  worship  that  woman,  Virginia  !  You  have 
become  quite  a  Yankee  yourself,  I  believe,  spending  whole 
days  with  her,  nursing  that  old  man." 

"The  Judge  is  an  old  friend  of  my  father's;  I  think  he 
would  wish  it,"  replied  the  girl,  in  a  lifeless  voice. 

Her  speech  did  not  reveal  all  the  pain  and  resentment 
she  felt.  She  thought  of  the  old  man  racked  with  pain 
and  suffering  in  the  heat,  lying  patient  on  his  narrow 
bed,  the  only  light  of  life  remaining  the  presence  of  the 
two  women.  They  came  day  by  day,  and  often  Margaret 
Brice  had  taken  the  place  of  the  old  negress  who  sat  with 
him  at  night.  Worship  Margaret  Brice  !  Yes,  it  was 
worship  ;  it  had  been  worship  since  the  day  she  and  her 
father  had  gone  to  the  little  whitewashed  hospital.  Provi 
dence  had  brought  them  together  at  the  Judge's  bedside. 
The  marvellous  quiet  power  of  the  older  woman  had  laid 
hold  of  the  girl  in  spite  of  all  barriers. 

Often  when  the  Judge's  pain  was  eased  sufficiently  for 
him  to  talk,  he  would  speak  of  Stephen.  The  mother 
never  spoke  of  her  son,  but  a  light  would  come  into  her 
eyes  at  this  praise  of  him  which  thrilled  Virginia  to  see. 
And  when  the  good  lady  was  gone,  and  the  Judge  had 
fallen  into  slumber,  it  would  still  haunt  her. 

Was  it  out  of  consideration  for  her  that  Mrs.  Brice 
would  turn  the  Judge  from  this  topic  which  he  seemed  to 
love  best?  Virginia  could  not  admit  to  herself  that  she 
resented  this.  She  had  heard  Stephen's  letters  to  the 
Judge.  They  came  every  week.  Strong  and  manly  they 
were,  with  plenty  of  praises  for  the  Southern  defenders 
of  Vicksburg.  Only  yesterday  Virginia  had  read  one  of 
these  to  Mr.  Whipple,  her  face  burning.  Well  that  his 
face  was  turned  to  the  window,  and  that  Stephen's  mother 
was  not  there  ! 

"  He   says   very   little   about    himself,"    Mr.    Whipple 


440  THE   CRISIS 

complained.  "  Had  it  not  been  for  Brinsmade,  we  should 
never  know  that  Sherman  had  his  eye  on  him,  and  had 
promoted  him.  We  should  never  have  known  of  that 
exploit  at  Chickasaw  Bluff.  But  what  a  glorious  victory 
was  Grant's  capture  of  Vicksburg,  on  the  Fourth  of  July  ! 
I  guess  we'll  make  short  work  of  the  Rebels  now." 

No,  the  Judge  had  not  changed  much,  even  in  illness. 
He  would  never  change.  Virginia  laid  the  letter  down, 
and  tears  started  to  her  eyes  as  she  repressed  a  retort. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  this  had  happened.  At  every 
Union  victory  Mr.  Whipple  would  loose  his  tongue.  How 
strange  that,  with  all  his  thought  of  others,  he  should  fall 
short  here  ! 

One  day,  after  unusual  forbearance,  Mrs.  Brice  had 
overtaken  Virginia  on  the  stairway.  Well  she  knew  the 
girl's  nature,  and  how  difficult  she  must  have  found 
repression.  Margaret  Brice  had  taken  her  hand. 

"  My  dear,"  she  had  said,  "  you  are  a  wonderful  woman." 

That  was  all.  But  Virginia  had  driven  back  to  Belle- 
garde  with  a  strange  elation  in  her  heart. 

Some  things  the  Judge  had  forborne  to  mention,  and 
for  this  Virginia  was  thankful.  One  was  the  piano.  But 
she  had  overheard  Shadrach  telling  old  Nancy  how 
Mrs.  Brice  had  pleaded  with  him  to  move  it,  that  he 
might  have  more  room  and  air.  He  had  been  obdurate. 
And  Colonel  Carvel's  name  had  never  once  passed  his 
lips. 

Many  a  night  the  girl  had  lain  awake  listening  to  the 
steamboats  as  they  toiled  against  the  river's  current, 
while  horror  held  her.  Horror  lest  her  father  at  that 
moment  be  in  mortal  agony  amongst  the  heaps  left  by 
the  battle's  surges ;  heaps  in  which,  like  mounds  of  ashes, 
the  fire  was  not  yet  dead.  Fearful  tales  she  had  heard 
in  the  prison  hospitals  of  wounded  men  lying  for  days  in 
the  Southern  sun  between  the  trenches  at  Vicksburg,  or 
freezing  amidst  the  snow  and  sleet  at  Donelson. 
-  Was  her  bitterness  against  the  North  not  just  ?  What 
a  life  had  been  Colonel  Carvel's  !  It  had  dawned  brightly. 
One  war  had  cost  him  his  wife.  Another,  and  he  had  lost 


BELLEGARDE   ONCE   MOKE  441 

his  fortune,  his  home,  his  friends,  all  that  was  dear  to  him. 
And  that  daughter,  whom  he  loved  best  in  all  the  world, 
he  was  perchance  to  see  no  more. 

Mrs.  Colfax,  yawning,  had  taken  a  book  and  gone  to 
bed.  Still  Virginia  sat  on  the  porch,  while  the  frogs  sang 
of  rain,  and  the  lightning  quivered  across  the  eastern  sky. 
She  heard  the  crunch  of  wheels  in  the  gravel. 

A  bar  of  light,  peopled  by  moths,  slanted  out  of  the 
doorway  and  fell  on  a  closed  carriage.  A  gentleman 
slowly  ascended  the  steps.  Virginia  recognized  him  as 
Mr.  Brinsmade. 

"  Your  cousin  Clarence  has  come  home,  my  dear,"  he 
said.  "  He  was  among  the  captured  at  Vicksburg,  and  is 
paroled  by  General  Grant." 

Virginia  gave  a  little  cry  and  started  forward.  But  he 
held  her  hands. 

"  He  has  been  wounded  ! " 

"  Yes,"  she  exclaimed,  "  yes.  Oh,  tell  me,  Mr.  Brins 
made,  tell  me  —  all  — 

"  No,  he  is  not  dead,  but  he  is  very  low.  Mr.  Russell 
has  been  kind  enough  to  come  with  me." 

She  hurried  to  call  the  servants.  But  they  were  all 
there  in  the  light,  in  African  postures  of  terror,  —  Alfred, 
and  Sambo,  and  Mammy  Easter,  and  Ned.  They  lifted 
the  limp  figure  in  gray,  and  carried  it  into  the  hall 
chamber,  his  eyes  closed,  his  face  waxen  under  a  beard 
brown  and  shaggy.  Heavily,  Virginia  climbed  the  stairs 
to  break  the  news  to  her  aunt. 

There  is  little  need  to  dwell  on  the  dark  days  which 
followed  —  Clarence  hanging  between  life  and  death. 
That  his  life  was  saved  was  due  to  Virginia  and  to 
Mammy  Easter,  and  in  no  particle  to  his  mother.  Mrs. 
Colfax  flew  in  the  .face  of  all  the  known  laws  of  nurs 
ing,  until  Virginia  was  driven  to  desperation,  and  held 
a  council  of  war  with  Dr.  Polk.  Then  her  aunt  grew 
jealous,  talked  of  a  conspiracy,  and  threatened  to  send 
for  Dr.  Brown — which  Dr.  Polk  implored  her  to  do. 
By  spells  she  wept,  when  they  quietly  pushed  her  from 


442  THE   CRISIS 

the  room  and  locked  the  door.  She  would  creep  in  to 
him  in  the  night  during  Mammy  Easter's  watches  and 
talk  him  into  a  raging  fever.  But  Virginia  slept  lightly 
and  took  the  alarm.  More  than  one  scene  these  two  had 
in  the  small  hours,  while  Ned  was  riding  post  haste  over 
the  black  road  to  town  for  the  Doctor. 

By  the  same  trusty  messenger  did  Virginia  contrive  to 
send  a  note  to  Mrs.  Brice,  begging  her  to  explain  her 
absence  to  Judge  Whipple.  By  day  or  night  Virginia 
did  not  leave  Bellegarde.  And  once  Dr.  Polk,  while 
walking  in  the  garden,  found  the  girl  fast  asleep  on  a 
bench,  her  sewing  on  her  lap.  Would  that  a  master  had 
painted  his  face  as  he  looked  down  at  her ! 

'Twas  he  who  brought  Virginia  daily  news  of  Judge 
Whipple.  Bad  news,  alas !  for  he  seemed  to  miss  her 
greatly.  He  had  become  more  querulous  and  exacting 
with  patient  Mrs.  Brice,  and  inquired  for  her  continually. 
She  would  not  go.  But  often,  when  he  got  into  his  buggy, 
the  Doctor  found  the  seat  filled  with  roses  and  fresh  fruit. 
Well  he  knew  where  to  carry  them. 

What  Virginia's  feelings  were  at  this  time  no  one  will 
ever  know.  God  had  mercifully  given  her  occupation, 
first  with  the  Judge,  and  later,  when  she  needed  it  more, 
with  Clarence.  It  was  she  whom  he  recognized  first  of 
all,  whose  name  was  on  his  lips  in  his  waking  moments. 
With  the  petulance  of  returning  reason,  he  pushed  his 
mother  away.  Unless  Virginia  was  at  his  bedside  when 
he  awoke,  his  fever  rose.  He  put  his  hot  hand  into  her 
cool  one,  and  it  rested  there  sometimes  for  hours.  Then, 
and  only  then,  did  he  seem  contented. 

The  wonder  was  that  her  health  did  not  fail.  People 
who  saw  her  during  that  fearful  summer,  fresh  and  with 
color  in  her  cheeks,  marvelled.  Great-hearted  Puss  Russell, 
who  came  frequently  to  inquire,  was  quieted  before  her 
friend,  and  the  frank  and  jesting  tongue  was  silent  in  that 
presence.  Anne  Brinsmade  came  with  her  father  and 
wondered.  A  miracle  had  changed  Virginia.  Her  poise, 
her  gentleness,  her  dignity,  were  the  effects  which  people 
saw.  Her  force  people  felt.  And  this  is  why  we  cannot 


BELLEGARDE   ONCE   MORE  443 

of  ourselves  add  one  cubit  to  our  stature.  It  is  God  who 
changes,  —  who  cleanses  us  of  our  levity  with  the  fire  of 
trial.  Happy,  thrice  happy,  those  whom  He  chasteneth. 

And  yet  how  many  are  there  who  could  not  bear  the 
fire  —  who  would  cry  out  at  the  flame  ! 

Little  by  little  Clarence  mended,  until  he  came  to  sit 
out  on  the  porch  in  the  cool  of  the  afternoon.  Then 
he  would  watch  for  hours  the  tassels  stirring  over  the 
green  fields  of  corn  and  the  river  running  beyond,  while  the 
two  women  sat  by.  At  times,  when  Mrs.  Colfax's  head 
aches  came  on,  and  Virginia  was  alone  with  him,  he  would 
talk  of  the  war ;  sometimes  of  their  childhood,  of  the  mad 
pranks  they  played  here  at  Bellegarde,  of  their  friends. 
Only  when  Virginia  read  to  him  the  Northern  account  of 
the  battles  would  he  emerge  from  a  calm  sadness  into 
excitement ;  and  he  clenched  his  fists  and  tried  to  rise 
when  he  heard  of  the  capture  of  Jackson  and  the  fall  of 
Port  Hudson.  Of  love  he  spoke  not  a  word,  and  now 
that  he  was  better  he  ceased  to  hold  her  hand.  But  often 
when  she  looked  up  from  her  book,  she  would  surprise  his 
dark  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  and  a  look  in  them  of  but  one 
interpretation.  She  was  troubled. 

The  Doctor  came  but  every  other  day  now,  in  the  after 
noon.  It  was  his  custom  to  sit  for  a  while  on  the  porch 
chatting  cheerily  with  Virginia,  his  stout  frame  filling  the 
rocking-chair.  Dr.  Folk's  indulgence  was  gossip — though 
always  of  a  harmless  nature :  how  Mr.  Cluyme  always 
managed  to  squirm  over  to  the  side  which  was  in  favor, 
and  how  Maude  Catherwood's  love-letter  to  a  certain 
dashing  officer  of  the  Confederate  army  had  been  cap 
tured  and  ruthlessly  published  in  the  hateful  Democrat. 
It  was  the  Doctor  who  gave  Virginia  news  of  the  Judge, 
and  sometimes  he  would  mention  Mrs.  Brice.  Then 
Clarence  would  raise  his  head  ;  and  once  (she  saw  with 
trepidation)  he  had  opened  his  lips  to  speak. 

One  day  the  Doctor  came,  and  Virginia  looked  into  his 
face  and  divined  that  he  had  something  to  tell  her.  He 
sat  but  a  few  moments,  and  when  he  arose  to  go  he  took 
her  hand. 


444  THE   CRISIS 

"  I  have  a  favor  to  beg  of  you,  Jinny,"  he  said.  ."  The 
Judge  has  lost  his  nurse.  Do  you  think  Clarence  could 
spare  you  for  a  little  while  every  day  ?  I  shouldn't  ask 
it,"  Dr.  Polk  continued,  somewhat  hurriedly  for  him, 
"  but  the  Judge  cannot  bear  a  stranger  near  him.  And  I 
am, afraid  to  have  him  excited  while  in  this  condition." 

"Mrs.  Briceisill?"  she  cried.  And  Clarence,  watch 
ing,  saw  her  color  go. 

"  No,"  replied  Dr.  Polk,  "  but  her  son  Stephen  has  come 
home  from  the  army.  He  was  transferred  to  Launian's 
brigade,  and  then  he  was  wounded."  He  jangled  the  keys 
in  his  pocket  and  continued :  "  It  seems  that  he  had  no 
business  in  the  battle.  Johnston  in  his  retreat  had  driven 
animals  into  all  the  ponds  and  shot  them,  and  in  the  hot 
weather  the  water  was  soon  poisoned.  Mr.  Brice  was 
scarcely  well  enough  to  stand  when  they  made  the  charge, 
and  he  is  now  in  a  dreadful  condition.  He  is  a  fine  fel 
low,"  added  the  Doctor,  with  a  sigh.  "  General  Sherman 
sent  a  special  physician  to  the  boat  with  him.  He  is  —  " 

Subconsciously  the  Doctor's  arm  sought  Virginia's  back, 
as  though  he  felt  her  swaying.  But  he  was  looking  at 
Clarence,  who  had  jerked  himself  forward  in  his  chair,  his 
thin  hands  convulsively  clutching  at  the  arms  of  it.  He 
did  not  appear  to  see  Virginia. 

"Stephen  Brice,  did  you  say?"  he  cried;  "will  he 
die?" 

In  his  astonishment  the  Doctor  passed  his  palm  across 
his  brow,  and  for  a  moment  he  did  not  answer.  Virginia 
had  taken  a  step  from  him,  and  was  standing  motionless, 
almost  rigid,  her  eyes  on  his  face. 

"  Die  ?  "  he  said,  repeating  the  word  mechanically ;  "  my 
God,  I  hope  not.  The  danger  is  over,  and  he  is  resting 
easily.  If  he  were  not,"  he  said  quickly  and  forcibly,  "  I 
should  not  be  here." 

The  Doctor's  mare  passed  more  than  one  fleet-footed 
trotter  on  the  road  to  town  that  day.  And  the  Doctor's 
black  servant  heard  his  master  utter  the  word  "fool" 
twice,  and  with  great  emphasis. 

For  a  long  time  Virginia  stood  on  the  end  of  the  porch, 


BELLEGARDE   ONCE   MORE  445 

until  the  heaving  of  the  buggy  harness  died  on  the  soft 
road.  She  felt  Clarence's  gaze  upon  her  before  she  turned 
to  face  him. 

"  Virginia  !  "     He  had  called  her  so  of  late. 

"Yes,  dear." 

"  Virginia,  sit  here  a  moment ;  I  have  something  to  tell 
you." 

She  came  and  took  the  chair  beside  him,  her  heart  beat 
ing,  her  breast  rising  and  falling.  She  looked  into  his 
eyes,  and  her  own  lashes  fell  before  the  hopelessness  there. 
Hut  he  put  out  his  fingers  wasted  by  illness,  and  she  took 
them  in  her  own. 

He  began  slowly,  as  if  every  word  cost  him  pain. 

"  Virginia,  we  were  children  together  here.  I  cannot 
remember  the  time  when  I  did  not  love  you,  when  I  did 
not  think  of  you  as  my  wife.  All  I  did  when  we  played 
together  was  to  try  to  win  your  applause.  That  was  my 
nature.  I  could  not  help  it.  Do  you  remember  the  day 
I  climbed  out  on  the  rotten  branch  of  the  big  pear  tree 
yonder  to  get  you  that  pear  —  when  I  fell  on  the  roof  of 
Alfred's  cabin  ?  I  did  not  feel  the  pain.  It  was  because 
you  kissed  it  and  cried  over  me.  You  are  crying  now," 
he  said  tenderly.  "  Don't.  Jinny.  It  isn't  to  make  you 
sad  that  I  am  saying  this. 

"  I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  time  to  think  lately,  Jinny. 
I  was  not  brought  up  seriously,  —  to  be  a  man.  I  have 
been  thinking  of  that  day  just  before  you  were  eigh 
teen,  when  you  rode  out  here.  How  well  I  remember  it! 
It  was  a  purple  day.  The  grapes  were  purple,  and  a 
purple  haze  was  over  there  across  the  river.  You  had 
been  cruel  to  me.  You  were  grown  a  woman  then,  and  I 
was  still  nothing  but  a  boy.  Do  you  remember  the  doe 
coming  out  of  the  forest,  and  how  she  ran  screaming  when 
I  tried  to  kiss  you  ?  You  told  me  I  was  good  for  nothing. 
Please  don't  interrupt  me.  It  was  true  what  you  said, 
that  I  was  wild  and  utterly  useless.  I  had  never  served 
or  pleased  any  but  myself,  —  and  you.  I  had  never 
studied  or  worked.  You  were  right  when  you  told  me 
I  must  learn  something,  —  do  something,  —  become  of 


446  THE   CRISIS 

some  account  in  the  world.  I  am  just  as  useless  to 
day." 

"  Oh,  Clarence,  after  what  you  have  done  for  the 
South  ?  " 

He  smiled  with  peculiar  bitterness. 

"  What  have  I  done  for  her  ?  "  he  added.  "  Crossed  the 
river  and  burned  houses.  I  could  not  build  them  again. 
Floated  down  the  river  on  a  log  after  a  few  percussion 
caps.  That  did  not  save  Vicksburg." 

"  And  how  many  had  the  courage  to  do  that  ? "  she 
exclaimed. 

"  Pooh,"  he  said,  "  courage  !  the  whole  South  has  it. 
Courage !  If  I  did  not  have  that,  I  would  send  Sambo 
to  my  father's  room  for  his  ebony  box,  and  blow  my 
brains  out.  No,  Jinny,  I  am  nothing  but  a  soldier  of 
fortune.  I  never  possessed  any  quality  but  a  wild  spirit 
for  adventure,  to  shirk  work.  I  wanted  to  go  with 
Walker,  you  remember.  I  wanted  to  go  to  Kansas.  I 
wanted  to  distinguish  myself,"  he  added  with  a  gesture. 
"  But  that  is  all  gone  now,  Jinny.  I  wanted  to  distinguish 
myself  for  you.  Now  I  see  how  an  earnest  life  might 
have  won  you.  No,  I  have  not  done  yet." 

She  raised  her  head,  frightened,  and  looked  at  him 
searchingly. 

"  One  day,"  he  said,  "  one  day  a  good  many  years  ago 
you  and  I  and  Uncle  Comyn  were  walking  along  Market 
Street  in  front  of  Judge  Whipple's  office,  and  a  slave 
auction  was  going  on.  A  girl  was  being  sold  on  whom 
you  had  set  your  heart.  There  was  some  one  in  the 
crowd,  a  Yankee,  who  bid  her  in  and  set  her  free.  Do 
you  remember  him  ?  " 

He  saw  her  profile,  her  lips  parted,  her  look  far  away. 
She  inclined  her  head. 

"  Yes,"  said  her  cousin,  "  so  do  I  remember  him.  He 
has  crossed  my  path  many  times  since,  Virginia.  And 
mark  what  I  say  —  it  was  he  whom  you  had  in  mind  on 
that  birthday  when  you  implored  me  to  make  something 
of  myself.  It  was  Stephen  Brice." 

Her  eyes  flashed  upon  him  quickly. 


BELLEGAKDE   ONCE   MORE  447 

"  Oh,  how  dare  you  ?  "  she  cried. 

"I  dare  anything,  Virginia,"  he  answered  quietly. 
"  I  am  not  blaming  you.  And  I  am  sure  that  you  did 
not  realize  that  he  was  the  ideal  which  you  had  in  mind. 
The  impression  of  him  has  never  left  it.  Fate  is  in  it. 
Again,  that  night  at  the  Brinsmades',  when  we  were  in 
fancy  dress,  I  felt  that  I  had  lost  you  when  I  got  back. 
He  had  been  there  when  I  was  away,  and  gone  again. 
And  —  and  —  you  never  told  me." 

"It  was  a  horrible  mistake,  Max,"  she  faltered.  "I 
was  waiting  for  you  down  the  road,  and  stopped  his  horse 
instead.  It  —  it  was  nothing — " 

"  It  was  fate,  Jinny.  In  that  half -hour  I  lost  you. 
How  I  hated  that  man  !  "  he  cried,  "  how  I  hated  him  ! "' 

"  Hated  !  "  exclaimed  Virginia,  involuntarily.  "  Oh, 
no  !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "hated!  I  would  have  killed  him  if  I 
could.  But  now  —  " 

"  But  now  ?  " 

"  Now  he  has  saved  my  life.  I  have  not  —  I  could  not 
tell  you  before.  He  came  into  the  place  where  I  was 
lying  in  Vicksburg,  and  they  told  him  that  my  only 
chance  was  to  come  North.  I  turned  my  back  upon  him, 
insulted  him.  Yet  he  went  to  Sherman  and  had  me 
brought  home  —  to  you,  Virginia.  If  he  loves  you, —  and 
I  have  long  suspected  that  he  does  —  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  cried,  hiding  her  face.     "No." 

"  I  know  he  loves  you,  Jinny,"  her  cousin  continued 
calmly,  inexorably.  "  And  you  know  that  he  does.  You 
must  feel  that  he  does.  It  was  a  brave  thing  to  do,  and 
a  generous.  He  knew  that  you  were  engaged  to  me. 
He  thought  that  he  was  saving  me  for  you.  He  was 
giving  up  the  hope  of  marrying  you  himself." 

Virginia  sprang  to  her  feet.  Unless  you  had  seen  her 
then,  you  had  never  known  the  woman  in  her  glory. 

"  Marry  a  Yankee  !  "  she  cried.  "  Clarence  Colfax, 
have  you  known  and  loved  me  all  my  life  that  you  might 
accuse  me  of  this  ?  Never,  never,  never!  " 

Transformed,  he  looked  incredulous  admiration. 


448  THE   CRISIS 

"  Jinny,  do  you  mean  it  ?  "  he  cried. 

In  answer  she  bent  down  with  all  that  gentleness  and 
grace  that  was  hers,  and  pressed  her  lips  to  his  forehead. 
Long  after  she  had  disappeared  in  the  door  he  sat  staring 
after  her. 

But  later,  when  Mammy  Easter  went  to  call  her  mis 
tress  for  supper,  she  found  her  with  her  face  buried  in 
the  pillows. 


CHAPTER   X 
IN  JUDGE  WHIPP;LE'S  OFFICE 

AFTER  this  Virginia  went  to  the  Judge's  bedside  every 
day,  in  the  morning,  when  Clarence  took  his  sleep.  She 
read  his  newspapers  to  him  when  he  was  well  enough. 
She  read  the  detested  Missouri  Democrat,  which  I  think 
was  the  greatest  trial  Virginia  ever  had  to  put  up  with. 
To  have  her  beloved  South  abused,  to  have  her  heroes 
ridiculed,  was  more  than  she  could  bear.  Once,  when 
the  Judge  was  perceptibly  better,  she  flung  the  paper  out 
of  the  window,  and  left  the  room.  He  called  her  back 
penitently. 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  smiling  admiration,  "forgive  an 
old  bear.  A  selfish  old  bear,  Jinny ;  my  only  excuse  is 
my  love  for  the  Union.  When  you  are  not  here,  I  -lie  in 
agony,  lest  she  has  suffered  some  mortal  blow  unknown  to 
me,  Jinny.  And  if  God  sees  fit  to  spare  our  great  coun 
try,  the  day  will  come  when  you  will  go  down  on  your 
knees  and  thank  Him  for  the  inheritance  which  He  saved 
for  your  children.  You  are  a  good  woman,  my  dear,  and 
a  strong  one.  I  have  hoped  that  you  will  see  the  right. 
That  you  will  marry  a  great  citizen,  one  unwavering  in 
his  service  and  devotion  to  our  Republic." 

The  Judge's  voice  trembled  with  earnestness  as  he 
spoke.  And  the  gray  eyes  under  the  shaggy  brows  were 
alight  with  the  sacred  fire  of  his  life's  purpose.  Undaunted 
as  her  spirit  was,  she  could  not  answer  him  then. 
,.  Once,  only  once,  he  said  to  her:  "Virginia,  I  loved  your 
father  better  than  any  man  I  ever  knew.  Please  God  I 
may  see  him  again  before  I  die." 

He  never  spoke  of  the  piano.     But  sometimes  at  twi 
light  his  eyes  would  rest  on  the  black  cloth  that  hid  it. 
Virginia  herself  never  touched  that   cloth.       To    her   it 
2  a  449 


450  THE   CRISIS 

seemed  the  shroud  upon  a  life  of  happiness  that  was  dead 
and  gone. 

Virginia  had  not  been  with  Judge  Whipple  during  the 
critical  week  after  Stephen  was  brought  home.  But  Anne 
had  told  her  that  his  anxiety  was  a  pitiful  thing  to  see, 
and  that  it  had  left  him  perceptibly  weaker.  Certain  it 
was  that  he  was  failing  fast.  So  fast  that  on  some  days 
Virginia,  watching  him,  would  send  Ned  or  Shadrach  in 
hot  haste  for  Dr.  Polk. 

At  noon  Anne  would  relieve  Virginia,  —  Anne  or  her 
mother,  —  and  frequently  Mr.  Brinsmade  would  come 
likewise.  For  it  is  those  who  have  the  most  to  do  who 
find  the  most  time  for  charitable  deeds.  As  the  hour  for 
their  coming  drew  near,  the  Judge  would  be  seeking  the 
clock,  and  scarce  did  Anne's  figure  appear  in  the  doorway 
before  the  question  had  arisen  to  his  lips  :  — 

"  And  how  is  my  young  Captain  to-day  ?  " 

That  is  what  he  called  him,  —  "  my  young  Captain." 

Virginia's  choice  of  her  cousin,  and  her  devotion  to  him, 
while  seemingly  natural  enough,  had  drawn  many  a  sigh 
from  Anne.  She  thought  it  strange  that  Virginia  herself 
had  never  once  asked  her  about  Stephen's  condition,  and 
she  spoke  of  this  one  day  to  the  Judge  with  as  much 
warmth  as  she  was  capable  of. 

"Jinny's  heart  is  like  steel  where  a  Yankee  is  con 
cerned.  If  her  best  friend  were  a  Yankee  —  " 

Judge  Whipple  checked  her,  smiling. 

"  She  has  been  very  good  to  one  Yankee  I  know  of,"  he 
said.  "  And  as  for  Mrs.  Brice,  I  believe  she  worships 
her." 

"  But  when  I  said  that  Stephen  was  much  better  to-day, 
she  swept  out  of  the  room  as  if  she  did  not  care  whether 
he  lived  or  died." 

"  Well,  Anne,"  the  Judge  had  answered,  "  you  women 
are  a  puzzle  to  me.  I  guess  you  don't  understand  your 
selves,"  he  added. 

That  was  a  strange  month  in  the  life  of  Clarence  Col- 
fax,  —  the  last  of  his  recovery,  while  he  was  waiting  for 


IN   JUDGE   WHIPPLE'S   OFFICE  451 

the  news  of  his  exchange.  Bellegarde  was  never  more 
beautiful,  for  Mrs.  Colfax  had  no  whim  of  letting  the 
place  run  down  because  a  great  war  was  in  progress. 
Though  devoted  to  the  South,  she  did  not  consecrate  her 
fortune  to  it.  Clarence  gave  as  much  as  he  could. 

Whole  afternoons  Virginia  and  he  would  sit  in  the 
shaded  arbor  seat  ;  or  at  the  cool  of  the  day  descend  to 
the  bench  on  the  lower  tier  of  the  summer  garden,  to 
steep,  as  it  were,  in  the  blended  perfumes  of  the  roses  and 
the  mignonettes  and  the  pinks.  He  was  soberer  than  of 
old.  Often  through  the  night  he  pondered  on  the  change 
in  her.  She,  too,  was  grave.  But  he  was  troubled  to 
analyze  her  gravity,  her  dignity.  Was  this  merely 
strength  of  character,  the  natural  result  of  the  trials 
through  which  she  had  passed,  the  habit  acquired  of  being 
the  helper  and  comforter  instead  of  the  helped  and  com 
forted  ?  Long  years  afterward  the  brightly  colored 
portrait  of  her  remained  in  his  eye, —  the  simple  linen 
gown  of  pink  or  white,  the  brown  hair  shining  in  the 
sunlight<  the  graceful  poise  of  the  head.  And  the  back 
ground  of  flowers  —  flowers  everywhere,  far  from  the 
field  of  war. 

Sometimes,  when  she  brought  his  breakfast  on  a  tray 
in  the  morning,  there  was  laughter  in  her  eyes.  In  the 
days  gone  by  they  had  been  all  laughter. 

They  were  engaged.  She  was  to  be  his  wife.  He  said  it 
over  to  himself  many,  many  times  in  the  day.  He  would 
sit  for  a  space,  feasting  his  eyes  upon  her  until  she  lifted 
her  look  to  his,  and  the  rich  color  flooded  her  face.  He 
was  not  a  lover  to  sit  quietly  by,  was  Clarence.  And  yet, 
as  the  winged  days  flew  on,  that  is  what  he  did.  It  was 
not  that  she  did  not  respond  to  his  advances:  he  did  not 
make  them.  Nor  could  he  have  told  why.  Was  it  the 
chivalry  inherited  from  a  long  life  of  Colfaxes  who  were 
gentlemen  ?  Not  wholly.  Something  of  awe  had  crept 
into  his  feeling  for  her. 

As  the  month  wore  on,  and  the  time  drew  near  for  him 
to  go  back  to  the  war,  a  state  that  was  not  quite  estrange 
ment,  and  yet  something  very  like  it,  set  in.  Poor 


452  THE  CRISIS 

Clarence  !  Doubts  bothered  him,  and  he  dared  not  give 
them  voice.  By  night  he  would  plan  his  speeches,  - 
impassioned,  imploring.  To  see  her  in  her  marvellous 
severity  was  to  strike  him  dumb.  Horrible  thought  ! 
Whether  she  loved  him,  whether  she  did  not  love  him, 
she  would  not  give  him  up.  Through  the  long  years  of 
their  lives  together,  he  would  never  know.  He  was  not 
a  weak  man  now,  was  Clarence  Colfax.  He  was  merely 
a  man  possessed  of  a  devil,  enchained  by  the  power  of 
self -repression  come  upon  her  whom  he  loved. 

And  day  by  day  that  power  seemed  to  grow  more  in 
tense,  —  invulnerable.  Among  her  friends  and  in  the 
little  household  it  had  raised  Virginia  to  heights  which 
she  herself  did  not  seem  to  realize.  She  was  become 
the  mistress  of  Bellegarde.  Mrs.  Colfax  was  under  its 
sway,  and  doubly  miserable  because  Clarence  would  listen 
to  her  tirades  no  more. 

"  When  are  you  to  be  married  ?  "  she  had  ventured  to 
ask  him  once.  Nor  had  she  taken  pains  to  hide  the  sar 
casm  in  her  voice. 

His  answer,  bringing  with  it  her  remembrance  of  her 
husband  at  certain  times  when  it  was  not  safe  to  question 
him,  had  silenced  her.  Addison  Colfax  had  not  been  a 
quiet  man.  When  he  was  quiet  he  was  dangerous. 

"  Whenever  Virginia  is  ready,  mother,"  he  had  replied. 

Whenever  Virginia  was  ready  !  He  knew  in  his  heart 
that  if  he  were  to  ask  her  permission  to  send  for  Dr. 
Posthelwaite  to-morrow  that  she  would  say  yes.  To 
morrow  came,  —  and  with  it  a  great  envelope,  an  official 
answer  to  Clarence's  report  that  he  was  fit  for  duty  once 
more.  He  had  been  exchanged.  He  was  to  proceed  to 
Cairo,  there  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  transport  Indian 
apolis,  which  was  to  carry  five  hundred  officers  and  men 
from  Sandusky  Prison,  who  were  going  back  to  fight  once 
more  for  the  Confederacy.  O  that  they  might  have 
seen  the  North,  all  those  brave  men  who  made  that  sacri 
fice  !  That  they  might  have  realized  the  numbers  and 
the  resources  and  the  wealth  arrayed  against  them  ! 

It  was  a  cool  day  for  September,  a  perfect  day,  an  auspi- 


IN   JUDGE    WHIPPLE'S   OFFICE  453 

cious  day,  and  yet  it  went  the  way  of  the  others  before  it. 
This  was  the  very  fulness  of  the  year,  the  earth  giving 
out  the  sweetness  of  her  maturity,  the  corn  in  martial 
ranks,  with  golden  plumes  nodding.  The  forest  still  in 
its  glory  of  green.  They  walked  in  silence  the  familiar 
paths,  and  Alfred,  clipping  the  late  roses  for  the  supper- 
table,  shook  his  white  head  as  they  passed  him.  The  sun, 
who  had  begun  to  hurry  on  his  southward  journey,  went 
to  bed  at  six.  The  few  clothes  Clarence  was  to  take  with 
him  had  been  packed  by  Virginia  in  his  bag,  and  the  two 
were  standing  in  the  twilight  on  the  steps  of  the  house, 
when  Ned  came  around  the  corner.  He  called  his  young 
mistress  by  name,  but  she  did  not  hear  him.  He  called 
again. 

"Miss  Jinny!" 

She  started  as  from  a  sleep,  and  paused. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Johnson,"  said  she,  and  smiled.  He  wore 
that  air  of  mystery  so  dear  to  darkeys. 

"  Gemmen  to  see  you,  Miss  Jinny." 

"  A  gentleman  !  "  she  said  in  surprise.     "  Where  ?" 

The  negro  pointed  to  the  lilac  shrubbery. 

"  Thar  ! 

"  What's  all  this  nonsense,  Ned  ?  "  said  Clarence,  sharply. 
"  If  a  man  is  there,  bring  him  here  at  once." 

"  Reckon  he  won't  come,  Marse  Cla'ence."  said  Ned. 
"  He  fearful  skeered  ob  de  light  ob  day.  He  got  suthin' 
very  pertickler  fo'  Miss  Jinny." 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  Clarence  demanded. 

"No  sah  —  yessah  —  leastwise  I'be  seed  'um.  Name's 
Robimson." 

The  word  was  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  before  Virginia 
had  leaped  down  the  four  feet  from  the  porch  to  the 
flower-bed  and  was  running  across  the  lawn  toward  the 
shrubbery.  Parting  the  bushes  after  her,  Clarence  found 
his  cousin  confronting  a  large  man,  whom  he  recognized 
as  the  carrier  who  brought  messages  from  the  South. 

*' What's  the  matter,  Jinny?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Pa  has  got  through  the  lines,"  she  said  breathlessly. 
"  He  —  he  came  up  to  see  me.  Where  is  he,  Robinson  ?  " 


454  THE   CRISIS 

44  He  went  to  Judge  Whipple's  rooms,  ma'am.  They 
say  the  Judge  is  dying.  I  reckoned  you  knew  it,  Miss 
Jinny,"  Robinson  added  contritely. 

44  Clarence,"  she  said,  44I  must  go  at  once." 

44 1  will  go  with  you,"  he  said  ;  44you  cannot  go  alone." 

In  a  twinkling  Ned  and  Sambo  had  the  swift  pair  of 
horses  harnessed,  and  the  light  carriage  was  flying  over 
the  soft  clay  road  toward  the  city.  As  they  passed  Mr. 
Brinsmade's  place,  the  moon  hung  like  a  great  round  lan 
tern  under  the  spreading  trees  about  the  house.  Clarence 
caught  a  glimpse  of  his  cousin's  face  in  the  light.  She 
was  leaning  forward,  her  gaze  fixed  intently  on  the  stone 
posts  which  stood  like  monuments  between  the  bushes  at 
the  entrance.  Then  she  drew  back  again  into  the  dark 
corner  of  the  barouche.  She  was  startled  by  a  sharp 
challenge,  and  the  carriage  stopped.  Looking  out,  she 
saw  the  provost's  guard  like  black  card  figures  on  the 
road,  and  Ned  fumbling  for  his  pass. 

On  they  drove  into  the  city  streets  until  the  dark  bulk 
of  the  Court  House  loomed  in  front  of  them,  and  Ned  drew 
rein  at  the  little  stairway  which  led  to  the  Judge's  rooms. 
Virginia,  leaping  out  of  the  carriage,  flew  up  the  steps 
and  into  the  outer  office,  and  landed  in  the  Colonel's 
arms. 

44  Jinny!" 

44  Oh,  Pa  !  "  she  cried.  44  Why  do  you  risk  your  life  in 
this  way  ?  If  the  Yankees  catch  you  —  " 

44  They  won't  catch  me,  honey,"  he  answered,  kissing 
her.  Then  he  held  her  out  at  arm's  length  and  gazed 
earnestly  into  her  face.  Trembling,  she  searched  his  own. 

44  Pa,  how  old  you  look  !  " 

44  I'm  not  precisely  young,  my  dear,"  he  said,  smiling. 

His  hair  was  nearly  white,  and  his  face  seared.  But  he 
was  a  fine  erect  figure  of  a  man,  despite  the  shabby  clothes 
he  wore,  and  the  mud-bespattered  boots. 

44  Pa,"  she  whispered,  44  it  was  foolhardy  to  come  here. 
Why  did  you  come  to  St.  Louis  at  all  ?  " 

44 1  came  to  see  you,  Jinny,  I  reckon.  And  when  I  got 
home  to-night  and  heard  Silas  was  dying,  I  just  couldn't 


IN   JUDGE   WHIPPLE'S   OFFICE  455 

resist.  He's  the  oldest  friend  I've  got  in  St.  Louis,  honey, 
and  now  —  now  —  " 

44  Pa,  you've  been  in  battle  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

"  And  you  weren't  hurt ;  I  thank  God  for  that,"  she 
whispered.  After  a  while  :  "Is  Uncle  Silas  dying?" 

"  Yes,  Jinny  ;  Dr.  Polk  is  in  there  now,  and  says  that  he 
can't  last  through  the  night.  Silas  has  been  asking  for 
you,  honey,  over  and  over.  He  says  you  were  very  good 
to  him,  —  that  you  and  Mrs.  Brice  gave  up  everything  to 
nurse  him." 

44  She  did,"  Virginia  faltered.  "  She  was  here  night 
and  day  until  her  son  came  home.  She  is  a  noble 
woman  —  " 

"  Her  son  ?  "  repeated  the  Colonel.  "  Stephen  Brice  ? 
Silas  has  done  nothing  the  last  half-hour  but  call  his 
name.  He  says  he  must  see  the  boy  before  he  dies.  Polk 
says  he  is  not  strong  enough  to  come." 

"  Oh,  ho,  he  is  not  strong  enough,"  cried  Virginia. 

The  Colonel  looked  down  at  her  queerly. 

44  Where  is  Clarence?"  he  asked. 

She  had  not  thought  of  Clarence.  She  turned  hurriedly, 
glanced  around  the  room,  and  then  peered  down  the  dark 
stairway. 

44  Why,  he  came  in  with  me.  I  wonder  why  he  did  not 
follow  me  up  ?  " 

44  Virginia." 

44  Yes,  Pa." 

44  Virginia,  are  you  happy  ?  " 

44  Why,  yes,  Pa." 

44  A  re  you  going  to  marry  Clarence?"  he  asked. 

44 1  have  promised,"  she  said  simply. 

Then  after  a  long  pause,  seeing  her  father  said  nothing, 
she  added,  44  Perhaps  he  was  waiting  for  you  to  see  me 
alone.  I  will  go  down  to  see  if  he  is  in  the  carriage." 

The  Colonel  started  with  her,  but  she  pulled  him  back 
in  alarm. 

44  You  will  be  seen,  Pa,"  she  cried.  44  How  can  you  be 
so  reckless  ?  " 


456  THE   CRISIS 

He  stayed  at  the  top  of  the  passage,  holding  open  the 
door  that  she  might  have  light.  When  she  reached  the 
sidewalk,  there  was  Ned  standing  beside  the  horses,  and 
the  carriage  empty. 

"Ned!" 

4  Yass'm,  Miss  Jinny." 
4  Where's  Mr.  Clarence?" 
4  He  done  gone,  Miss  Jinny." 
4  Gone  ?  " 

4  Yass'm.  Fust  I  seed  was  a  man  plump  out'n  Will- 
ums's,  Miss  Jinny.  He  was  a-gwine  shufflin'  up  de  street 
when  Marse  Cla'ence  put  out  after  him,  pos'  has'e.  Den 
he  run." 

She  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  pavement  in  thought, 
and  paused  on  the  stairs  again,  wondering  whether  it  were 
best  to  tell  her  father.  Perhaps  Clarence  had  seen  —  she 
caught  her  breath  at  the  thought  and  pushed  open  the 
door. 

44  Oh,  Pa,  do  you  think  you  are  safe  here  ?  "  she  cried. 

44  Why,  yes,  honey,  I  reckon  so,"  he  answered.  44  Where's 
Clarence  ?  " 

44  Ned  says  he  ran  after  a  man  who  was  hiding  in  an 
entrance.  Pa,  I  am  afraid  they  are  watching  the  place." 

44 1  don't  think  so,  Jinny.  I  came  here  with  Polk,  in  his 
buggy,  after  dark." 

Virginia,  listening,  heard  footsteps  on  the  stairs,  and 
seized  her  father's  sleeve. 

44  Think  of  the  risk  you  are  running,  Pa,"  she  whispered. 
She  would  have  dragged  him  to  the  closet.  But  it  was 
too  late.  The  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Brinsmade  entered, 
and  with  him  a  lady  veiled. 

At  sight  of  Mr.  Carvel  Mr.  Brinsmade  started  back  in 
surprise.  How  long  he  stared  at  his  old  friend  Virginia 
could  not  say.  It  seemed  to  her  an  eternity.  But  Mrs. 
Brice  has  often  told  since  how  straight  the  Colonel 
stood,  his  fine  head  thrown  back,  as  he  returned  the 
glance.  Then  Mr.  Brinsmade  came  forward,  with  his 
hand  outstretched. 

44  Comyn,"  said  he,  his  voice  breaking  a  little,  "  I  have 


IN   JUDGE   WHIPPLE'S   OFFICE  457 

known  you  these  many  years  as  a  man  of  unstained  honor. 
You  are  safe  with  me.  I  ask  no  questions.  God  will  judge 
whether  I  have  done  my  duty." 

Mr.  Carvel  took  his  friend's  hand.  "  Thank  you,  Calvin," 
he  said.  "I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  as  a  gentleman 
that  I  came  into  this  city  for  no  other  reason  than  to  see 
my  daughter.  And  hearing  that  my  old  friend  was  dying, 
I  could  not  resist  the  temptation,  sir  —  " 

Mr.  Brinsmade  finished  for  him.     And  his  voice  shook. 

"  To  come  to  his  bedside.  How  many  men  do  you  think 
would  risk  their  lives  so,  Mrs.  Brice  ?  " 

"Not  many,  indeed,  Mr.  Brinsmade,"  she  answered. 
"  Thank  God  he  will  now  die  happy.  I  know  it  has  been 
much  on  his  mind." 

The  Colonel  bowed  over  her  hand. 

"  And  in  his  name,  madam,  —  in  the  name  of  my  oldest 
and  best  Mend,  —  I  thank  you  for  what  you  have  done  for 
him.  I  trust  that  you  will  allow  me  to  add  that  I  have 
learned  from  my  daughter  to  respect  and  admire  you.  I 
hope  that  your  son  is  doing  well." 

"  He  is,  thank  you,  Colonel  Carvel.  If  he  but  knew 
that  the  Judge  were  dying,  I  could  not  have  kept  him  at 
home.  Dr.  I3olk  says  that  he  must  not  leave  the  house, 
or  undergo  any  excitement." 

Just  then  the  door  of  the  inner  room  opened,  and  Dr. 
Polk  came  out.  He  bowed  gravely  to  Mrs.  Brice  and 
Mr.  Brinsmade,  and  he  patted  Virginia. 

"  The  Judge  is  still  asleep,"  he  said  gently.  "  And  — 
he  may  not  wake  up  in  this  world." 

Silently,  sadly,  they  went  together  into  that  little  room 
where  so  much  of  Judge  Whipple's  life  had  been  spent. 
How  little  it  was  !  And  how  completely  they  filled  it,  — 
these  five  people  and  the  big  Rothfield  covered  with  the 
black  cloth.  Virginia  pressed  her  father's  arm  as  they 
leaned  against  it,  and  brushed  her  eyes.  The  Doctor 
turned  the  wick  of  the  night-lamp. 

What  was  that  upon  the  sleeper's  face  from  which  they 
drew  back  ?  A  smile  ?  Yes,  and  a  light.  The  divine 
light  which  is  shed  upon  those  who  have  lived  for 


458  THE   CRISIS 

others,  who  have  denied  themselves  the  lusts  of  the  flesh. 
For  a  long  space,  perhaps  an  hour,  they  stayed,  silent 
save  for  a  low  word  now  and  again  from  the  Doctor 
as  he  felt  the  Judge's  heart.  Tableaux  from  the  past 
floated  before  Virginia's  eyes.  Of  the  old  days,  of  the 
happy  days  in  Locust  Street,  of  the  Judge  quarrelling 
with  her  father,  and  she  and  Captain  Lige  smiling  near 
by.  And  she  remembered  how  sometimes  when  the  con 
troversy  was  finished  the  Judge  would  rub  his  nose  and 


"  It's  my  turn  now,  Lige." 

Whereupon  the  Captain  would  open  the  piano,  and  she 
would  play  the  hymn  that  he  liked  best.  It  was  "  Lead, 
Kindly  Light." 

What  was  it  in  Silas  W hippie's  nature  that  courted  the 
pain  of  memories?  What  pleasure  could  it  have  been 
all  through  his  illness  to  look  upon  this  silent  and  cruel 
reminder  of  days  gone  by  forever?  She  had  heard  that 
Stephen  Brice  had  been  with  the  Judge  when  he  had  bid 
it  in.  She  wondered  that  he  had  allowed  it,  for  they  said 
that  he  was  the  only  one  who  had  ever  been  known  to 
break  the  Judge's  will.  Virginia's  eyes  rested  on  Mar 
garet  Brice,  who  was  seated  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  smooth 
ing  the  pillows.  The  strength  of  Stephen's  features  were 
in  hers,  but  not  the  ruggedness.  Her  features  were  large, 
indeed,  yet  stanch  and  softened.  The  widow,  as  if  feel 
ing  Virginia's  look  upon  her,  glanced  up  from  the  Judge's 
face  and  smiled  at  her.  The  girl  colored  with  pleasure, 
and  again  at  the  thought  which  she  had  had  of  the  likeness 
between  mother  and  son. 

Still  the  Judge  slept  on,  while  they  watched.  And  at 
length  the  thought  of  Clarence  crossed  Virginia's  mind. 
Why  had  he  not  returned?  Perhaps  he  was  in  the  office 
without.  Whispering  to  her  father,  she  stole  out  on  tip 
toe.  The  office  was  empty.  Descending  to  the  street, 
she  was  unable  to  gain  any  news  of  Clarence  from  Ned, 
who  was  becoming  alarmed  likewise. 

Perplexed  and  troubled,  she  climbed  the  stairs  again. 
No  sound  came  from  the  Judge's  room.  Perhaps  Clar- 


IN   JUDGE   WHIPPLE'S   OFFICE  459 

ence  would  be  back  at  any  moment.  Perhaps  her  father 
was  in  danger.  She  sat  down  to  think,  —  her  elbows  on 
the  desk  in  front  of  her,  her  chin  in  her  hand,  her  eyes  at 
the  level  of  a  line  of  books  which  stood  on  end  —  Chitty's 
Pleadings,  Blackstone,  G-reenleaf  on  Evidence.  Absently, 
as  a  person  whose  mind  is  in  trouble,  she  reached  out  and 
took  one  of  them  down  and  opened  it.  Across  the  fly 
leaf,  in  a  high  and  bold  hand,  was  written  the  name, 
Stephen  Atterbury  Brice. 

It  was  his  desk  !     She  was  sitting  in  his  chair ! 

She  dropped  the  book,  and,  rising  abruptly,  crossed 
quickly  to  the  other  side  of  the  room.  Then  she  turned, 
hesitatingly,  and  went  back.  This  was  his  desk  —  his 
chair,  in  which  he  had  worked  so  faithfully  for  the  man 
who  lay  dying  beyond  the  door.  For  him  whom  they 
all  loved  —  whose  last  hours  they  were  here  to  soothe. 
Wars  and  schisms  may  part  our  bodies,  but  stronger 
ties  unite  our  souls.  Through  Silas  Whipple,  through 
his  mother,  Virginia  knew  that  she  was  woven  of  one 
piece  with  Stephen  Brice.  In  a  thousand  ways  she  was 
reminded,  lest  she  drive  it  from  her  belief.  She  might 
marry  another,  and  that  would  not  matter. 

She  sank  again  into  his  chair,  and  gave  herself  over  to 
the  thoughts  crowding  in  her  heart.  How  the  threads  of 
his  life  ran  next  to  hers,  and  crossed  and  recrossed  them ! 
The  slave  auction,  her  dance  with  him,  the  Fair,  the  meet 
ing  at  Mr.  Brinsmade's  gate,  —  she  knew  them  all.  Her 
love  and  admiration  for  his  mother.  Her  dreams  of  him  — 
for  she  did  dream  of  him.  And  now  he  had  saved  Clar 
ence's  life  that  she  might  marry  her  cousin.  Was  it  true 
that  she  would  marry  Clarence?  That  seemed  to  her  only 
a  dream.  It  had  never  seemed  real.  Again  she  glanced  at 
the  signature  in  the  book,  as  if  fascinated  by  the  very 
strength  of  it.  She  turned  over  a  few  pages  of  the  book. 
"  Supposing  the  defendant's  counsel  essays  to  prove  by 
means  of  — "  that  was  his  writing  again,  a  marginal 
note.  There  were  marginal  notes  on  every  page ;  even 
the  last  was  covered  with  them.  And  then  at  the  end, 
"First  reading,  February,  1858.  Second  reading,  July, 


460  THE   CEISIS 

1858.  Bought  with  some  of  money  obtained  by  first 
article  for  M.D."  That  capacity  for  work,  incomparable 
gift,  was  what  she  had  always  coveted  the  most.  Again 
she  rested  her  elbows  on  the  desk  and  her  chin  on  her 
hands,  and  sighed  unconsciously. 

She  had  not  heard  the  step  on  the  stair.  She  had  not 
seen  the  door  open.  She  did  not  know  that  any  one  was 
in  the  room  until  she  heard  his  voice,  and  then  she  thought 
that  she  was  dreaming. 

"  Miss  Carvel !  " 

"  Yes  ?  "     Her  head  did  not  move. 

He  took  a  step  toward  her. 

"  Miss  Carvel !  " 

Slowly  she  raised  her  face  to  his,  unbelief  and  wonder 
in  her  eyes,  —  unbelief  and  wonder  and  fright.  No ;  it 
could  not  be  he.  But  when  she  met  the  quality  of  his 
look,  the  grave  tenderness  of  it,  she  trembled,  and  sur 
rendered  her  own  to  the  page  where  his  handwriting 
quivered  and  became  a  blur. 

He  never  knew  the  effort  it  cost  her  to  rise  and  con 
front  him.  She  herself  had  not  measured  or  fathomed 
the  power  which  his  very  person  exhaled.  It  seemed  to 
have  come  upon  him  suddenly.  He  needed  not  to  have 
spoken  for  her  to  have  felt  that.  What  it  was  she  could 
not  tell.  She  knew  alone  that  it  was  nigh  irresistible, 
and  she  grasped  the  back  of  the  chair  as  though  material 
support  might  sustain  her. 

"Is  he  — dead?" 

She  was  breathing  hard. 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  Not  —  not  yet.  They  are  waiting 
—  for  the  end." 

"  And  you  ?  "  he  asked  in  grave  surprise,  glancing  at 
the  door  of  the  Judge's  room. 

Then  she  remembered  Clarence. 

"  I  am  waiting  for  my  cousin,"  she  said. 

Even  as  she  spoke  she  was  with  this  man  again  at  the 
Brinsmade  gate.  Those  had  been  her  very  words  !  Intui 
tion  told  her  that  he,  too,  was  thinking  of  that  time. 
Now  he  had  found  her  at  his  desk,  and,  as  if  that  were 


IN  JUDGE   WHIPPLE'S   OFFICE  461 

not  humiliation  enough,  with  one  of  his  books  taken  down 
and  laid  open  at  his  signature.  Suffused,  she  groped  for 
words  to  carry  her  on.  "  I  am  waiting  for  Clarence, 
Mr.  Brice.  He  was  here,  and  is  gone  somewhere." 

He  did  not  seem  to  take  account  of  the  speech.  And 
his  silence  —  goad  to  indiscretion  —  pressed  her  to  add:  — 

"You  saved  him,  Mr.  Brice.  I  —  we  all  —  thank  you 
so  much.  And  that  is  not  all  I  want  to  say.  It  is  a  poor 
enough  acknowledgment  of  what  you  did,  —  for  we  have 
not  always  treated  you  well."  Her  voice  faltered  almost 
to  faintness,  as  he  raised  his  hand  in  pained  protest.  But 
she  continued  :  "I  shall  regard  it  as  a  debt  I  can  never 
repay.  It  is  not  likely  that  in  my  life  to  come  I  can  ever 
help  you,  but  I  shall  pray  for  that  opportunity." 

He  interrupted  her. 

"  I  did  nothing,  Miss  Carvel,  nothing  that  the  most 
unfeeling  man  in  our  army  would  not  do.  Nothing  that 
I  would  not  have  done  for  the  merest  stranger." 

"  You  saved  him  for  me,"  she  said. 

O  fateful  words  that  spoke  of  themselves  !  She  turned 
away  from  him  for  very  shame,  and  yet  she  heard  him 
saying  :  — 

"  Yes,  I  saved  him  for  you." 

His  voice  was  in  the  very  note  of  the  sadness  which  has 
the  strength  to  suffer,  to  put  aside  the  thought  of  self. 
A  note  to  which  her  soul  responded  with  anguish  when 
she  turned  to  him  with  the  natural  cry  of  woman. 

"  Oh,  you  ought  not  to  have  come  here  to-night.  Why 
did  you  come  ?  The  Doctor  forbade  it.  The  consequences 
may  kill  you." 

"  It  does  not  matter  much,"  he  answered.  "  The  Judge 
was  dying." 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  " 

"I  guessed  it,  —  because  my  mother  had  left  me." 

"  Oh,  you  ought  not  to  have  come  !  "  she  said  again. 

"  The  Judge  has  been  my  benefactor,"  he  answered 
quietly.  "  I  could  walk,  and  it  was  my  duty  to  come." 

"  You  did  not  walk  !  "  she  gasped. 

He  smiled. 


462  THE   CEISIS 

"  I  had  no  carriage,"  he  said. 

With  the  instinct  of  her  sex  she  seized  the  chair  and 
placed  it  under  him.  "  You  must  sit  down  at  once,"  she 
cried. 

"  But  I  am  not  tired,"  he  replied. 

"  Oh,  you  must  sit  down,  you  must,  Captain  Brice."  He 
started  at  the  title,  which  came  so  prettily  from  her  lips. 

"  Won't  you  please  ?  "  she  said  pleadingly. 

He  sat  down.  And,  as  the  sun  peeps  out  of  a  troubled 
sky,  she  smiled. 

"  It  is  your  chair,"  she  said. 

He  glanced  at  the  book,  and  the  bit  of  sky  was  crimson. 
But  still  he  said  nothing. 

"  It  is  your  book,"  she  stammered.  "  I  did  not  know 
that  it  was  yours  when  I  took  it  down.  I  —  I  was  look 
ing  at  it  while  I  was  waiting  for  Clarence." 

"  It  is  dry  reading,"  he  remarked,  which  was  not  what 
he  wished  to  say. 

"  And  yet  —  " 

"  Yes  ?  " 

"And  yet  you  have  read  it  twice."  The  confession 
had  slipped  to  her  lips'. 

She  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  his  desk,  looking  down 
at  him.  Still  he  did  not  look  at  her.  All  the  will  that 
was  left  him  averted  his  head.  And  the  seal  of  honor 
was  upon  his  speech.  And  he  wondered  if  man  were 
ever  more  tempted. 

Then  the  evil  spread  its  wings,  and  soared  away  into 
the  night.  And  the  moment  was  past.  Peace  seemed 
to  come  upon  them  both,  quieting  the  tumult  in  their 
hearts,  and  giving  them  back  their  reason.  Respect  like 
wise  came  to  the  girl,  —  respect  that  was  akin  to  awe.  It 
was  he  who  spoke  first. 

"  My  mother  has  told  me  how  faithfully  you  nursed 
the  Judge,  Miss  Carvel.  It  was  a  very  noble  thing  to 
do." 

"  Not  noble  at  all,"  she  replied  hastily.  "  Your  mother 
did  the  most  of  it.  And  he  is  an  old  friend  of  my 
father—" 


IN  JUDGE   WHIPPLE'S   OFFICE  463 

"  It  was  none  the  less  noble,"  said  Stephen,  warmly. 
44  And  he  quarrelled  with  Colonel  Carvel." 

44  My  father  quarrelled  with  him,"  she  corrected.  "  It 
was  well  that  I  should  make  some  atonement.  And  yet 
mine  was  no  atonement.  I  love  Judge  Whipple.  It  was 
a  —  a  privilege  to  see  your  mother  every  day  —  oh,  how 
lie  would  talk  of  you!  I  think  he  loves  you  better  than 
any  one  on  this  earth." 

44  Tell  me  about  him,"  said  Stephen,  gently. 

Virginia  told  him,  and  into  the  narrative  she  threw  the 
whole  of  her  pent-up  self.  How  patient  the  Judge  had 
been,  and  the  joy  he  had  derived  from  Stephen's  letters. 
44  You  were  very  good  to  write  to  him  so  often,"  she  said. 
It  seemed  like  a  dream  to  Stephen,  like  one  of  the  many 
dreams  of  her,  the  mystery  of  which  was  of  the  inner  life 
beyond  our  ken.  He  could  not  recall  a  time  when  she 
had  not  been  rebellious,  antagonistic.  And  now  —  as  he 
listened  to  her  voice,  with  its  exquisite  low  tones  and 
modulations,  as  he  sat  there  in  this  sacred  intimacy,  per 
chance  to  be  the  last  in  his  life,  he  became  dazed.  His 
eyes,  softened,  with  supreme  eloquence  cried  out  that  she 
was  his,  forever  and  forever.  The  magnetic  force  which 
God  uses  to  tie  the  worlds  together  was  pulling  him  to 
her.  And  yet  the  Puritan  resisted  — 

Then  the  door  swung  open,  and  Clarence  Coif  ax,  out 
of  breath,  ran  into  the  room.  He  stopped  short  when  he 
saw  them,  his  hand  fell  to  his  sides,  and  his  words  died  on 
his  lips.  Virginia  did  not  stir. 

It  was  Stephen  who  rose  to  meet  him,  and  with  her  eyes 
the  girl  followed  his  motions.  The  broad  and  loosely 
built  frame  of  the  Northerner,  his  shoulders  slightly  stoop 
ing,  contrasted  with  Clarence's  slighter  figure,  erect,  com 
pact,  springy.  The  Southerner's  eye,  for  that  moment, 
was  flint  struck  with  the  spark  from  the  steel.  Stephen's 
face,  thinned  by  illness,  was  grave.  The  eyes  kindly,  yet 
penetrating.  For  an  instant  they  stood  thus  regarding 
each  other,  neither  offering  a  hand.  It  was  Stephen  who 
spoke  first,  and  if  there  was  a  trace  of  emotion  in  his 
voice,  one  who  was  listening  intently  failed  to  mark  it. 


464  THE  CRISIS 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  have  recovered,  Colonel 
Colfax,"  he  said. 

"  I  should  indeed  be  without  gratitude  if  I  did  not 
thank  Captain  Brice  for  my  life,"  answered  Clarence. 

Virginia  flushed.  She  had  detected  the  undue  ac 
cent  on  her  cousin's  last  words,  and  she  glanced  apprehen 
sively  at  Stephen.  His  forceful  reply  surprised  them 
both. 

"  Miss  Carvel  has  already  thanked  me  sufficiently,  sir," 
he  said.  "  I  am  happy  to  have  been  able  to  have  done 
you  a  good  turn,  and  at  the  same  time  to  have  served  her 
so  well.  It  was  she  who  saved  your  life.  It  is  to  her 
your  thanks  are  chiefly  due.  I  believe  that  I  am  not 
going  too  far,  Colonel  Colfax,"  he  added,  "when  I  con 
gratulate  you  both." 

Before  her  cousin  could  recover,  Virginia  slid  down 
from  the  desk  and  had  come  between  them.  How  her 
eyes  shone  and  her  lip  trembled  as  she  gazed  at  him, 
Stephen  has  never  forgotten.  What  a  woman  she  was 
as  she  took  her  cousin's  arm  and  made  him  a  curtsey. 

u  What  you  have  done  may  seem  a  light  thing  to  you, 
Captain  Brice,"  she  said.  "  That  is  apt  to  be  the  way 
with  those  who  have  big  hearts.  You  have  put  upon 
Colonel  Colfax,  and  upon  me,  a  life's  obligation." 

When  she  began  to  speak,  Clarence  raised  his  head. 
As  he  glanced,  incredulous,  from  her  to  Stephen,  his  look 
gradually  softened,  and  when  she  had  finished,  his  man 
ner  had  become  again  frank,  boyish,  impetuous  —  nay, 
penitent.  He  seized  Stephen's  hand. 

"  Forgive  me,  Brice,"  he  cried.  "  Forgive  me.  I 
should  have  known  better.  I  —  I  did  you  an  injustice, 
and  you,  Virginia.  I  was  a  fool  —  a  scoundrel." 

Stephen  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  you  were  neither,"  he  said.  Then  upon  his  face 
came  the  smile  of  one  who  has  the  strength  to  renounce 
all  that  is  dearest  to  him  —  that  smile  of  the  unselfish, 
sweetest  of  all.  It  brought  tears  to  Virginia.  She  was 
to  see  it  once  again,  upon  the  features  of  one  who  bore  a 
cross,  —  Abraham  Lincoln.  Clarence  looked,  and  then  he 


IN  JUDGE   WHIPPLE'S   OFFICE  465 

turned  away  toward  the  door  to  the  stairway,  as  one  who 
walks  blindly,  in  a  sorrow. 

His  hand  was  on  the  knob  when  Virginia  seemed  to 
awake.  She  flew  after  him. 

"  Wait  !  "  she  whispered. 

Then  she  raised  her  eyes,  slowly,  to  Stephen,  who  was 
standing  motionless  beside  his  chair. 

"  Captain  tfrice  !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered. 

"  My  father  is  in  the  Judge's  room,"  she  said. 

"  Your  father  !  "  he  exclaimed.     "  I  thought  — 

"That  he  was  an  officer  in  the  Confederate  Army.  So 
he  is."  Her  head  went  up  as  she  spoke. 

Stephen  stared  at  her,  troubled.  Suddenly  her  manner 
changed.  She  took  a  step  toward  him,  appealingly. 

"  Oh,  he  is  not  a  spy,"  she  cried.  "  He  has  given  Mr. 
Brinsmade  his  word  that  he  came  here  for  no  other  pur 
pose  than  to  see  me.  Then  he  heard  that  the  Judge  was 
dying  - 

"  He  has  given  his  word  to  Mr.  Brinsmade  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Then,"  said  Stephen,  "  what  Mr.  Brinsmade  sanctions 
is  not  for  me  to  question." 

She  gave  him  yet  another  look,  a  fleeting  one  which  he 
did  not  see.  Then  she  softly  opened  the  door  and  passed 
into  the  room  of  the  dying  man.  Stephen  followed  her. 

As  for  Clarence,  he  stood  for  a  space  staring  after  them. 
Then  he  went  noiselessly  down  the  stairs  into  the  street. 


2H 


CHAPTER   XI 

LEAD,    KINDLY   LIGHT 

WHEN  the  Judge  opened  his  eyes  for  the  last  time  in 
this  world,  they  fell  first  upon  the  face  of  his  old  friend, 
Colonel  Carvel.  Twice  he  tried  to  speak  his  name,  and 
twice  he  failed.  The  third  time  he  said  it  faintly. 

"  Comyn  !  " 

"Yes,  Silas." 

"  Comyn,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  I  came  to  see  you,  Silas,"  answered  the 
Colonel. 

"  To  see  me  die,"  said  the  Judge,  grimly. 

Colonel  Carvel's  face  twitched,  and  the  silence  in  that 
little  room  seemed  to  throb. 

"  Comyn,"  said  the  Judge  again,  "  I  heard  that  you  had 
gone  South  to  fight  against  your  country.  I  see  you  here. 
Can  it  be  that  you  have  at  last  returned  in  your  allegiance, 
to  the  flag  for  which  your  forefathers  died  ?  " 

Poor  Colonel  Carvel  ! 

"  I  am  still  of  the  same  mind,  Silas,"  he  said. 

The  Judge  turned  his  face  away,  his  thin  lips  moving 
as  in  prayer.  But  they  knew  that  he  was  not  praying. 

"  Silas,"  said  Mr.  Carvel,  "  we  were  friends  for  twenty 
years.  Let  us  be  friends  again,  before  — 

"  Before  I  die,"  the  Judge  interrupted.  "  I  am  ready 
to  die.  Yes,  I  am  ready.  1  have  had  a  hard  life,  Comyn, 
and  few  friends.  It  was  my  fault.  I  —  I  did  not  know 
how  to  make  them.  Yet  no  man  ever  valued  those  few 
more  than  I.  But,"  he  cried,  the  stern  fire  unquenched 
to  the  last,  "  I  would  that  God  had  spared  me  to  see  this 
Rebellion  stamped  out.  For  it  will  be  stamped  out."  To 
those  watching,  his  eyes  seemed  fixed  on  a  distant  point, 

466 


LEAD,   KINDLY   LIGHT  467 

and  the  light  of  prophecy  was  in  them.  "  I  would  that 
God  had  spared  me  to  see  this  Union  supreme  once  more. 
Yes,  it  will  be  supreme.  A  high  destiny  is  reserved  for 
this  nation  —  I  think  the  highest  of  all  on  this  earth." 

Amid  profound  silence  he  leaned  back  on  the  pillows 
from  which  he  had  risen,  his  breath  coming  fast.  None 
dared  look  at  the  neighbor  beside  them. 

It  was  Stephen's  mother  who  spoke.  "  Would  you  not 
like  to  see  a  clergyman,  Judge  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  look  on  his  face  softened  as  he  turned  to  her. 

"  No,  madam,"  he  answered  ;  "  you  are  clergyman  enough 
for  me.  You  are  near  enough  to  God  —  there  is  no  one  in 
this  room  who  is  not  worthy  to  stand  in  the  presence  of 
death.  Yet  I  wish  that  a  clergyman  were  here,  that  he 
might  listen  to  one  thing  I  have  to  say.  When  I  was  a 
boy  I  worked  my  way  down  the  river  to  New  York,  to  see 
the  city.  I  met  a  bishop  there.  He  said  to  me,  4Sit 
down,  my  son,  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  I  know  your  father 
in  Albany.  You  are  Senator  Whipple's  son.'  I  said  to 
him,  '  No,  sir,  I  am  not  Senator  Whipple's  son.  I  am  no 
relation  of  his.'  If  the  bishop  had  wished  to  talk  to  me 
after  that,  Mrs.  Brice,  he  might  have  made  my  life  a  little 
easier  —  a  little  sweeter.  I  know  that  they  are  not  all 
like  that.  But  it  was  by  just  such  things  that  I  was 
embittered  when  I  was  a  boy."  He  stopped,  and  when  he 
spoke  again,  it  was  more  slowly,  more  gently,  than  any  of 
them  had  heard  him  speak  in  all  his  life  before.  "  I  wish 
that  some  of  the  blessings  which  I  am  leaving  now  had 
come  to  me  then  —  when  I  was  a  boy.  I  might  have  done 
my  little  share  in  making  the  world  a  brighter  place  to 
live  in,  as  all  of  you  have  done.  Yes,  as  all  of  you  are 
now  doing  for  me.  I  am  leaving  the  world  with  a  better 
opinion  of  it  than  I  ever  held  in  life.  God  hid  the  sun 
from  me  when  I  was  a  little  child.  Margaret  Brice/'  he 
said,  "if  I  had  had  such  a  mother  as  you,  I  would  have 
been  softened  then.  I  thank  God  that  He  sent  you  when 
He  did." 

The  widow  bowed  her  head,  and  a  tear  fell  upon  his 
pillow. 


468  THE   CRISIS 

"I  have  done  nothing,"  she  murmured,  "nothing." 

"  So  shall  they  answer  at  the  last  whom  He  has  chosen," 
said  the  Judge.  "  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me.  He  has 
promised  to  remember  those  who  do  that.  Hold  up  your 
head,  my  daughter.  God  has  been  good  to  you.  He  has 
given  you  a  son  whom  all  men  may  look  in  the  face,  of 
whom  you  need  never  be  ashamed.  Stephen,"  said  the 
Judge,  "come  here." 

Stephen  made  his  way  to  the  bedside,  but  because  of  the 
moisture  in  his  eyes  he  saw  but  dimly  the  gaunt  face. 
And  yet  he  shrank  back  in  awe  at  the  change  in  it.  So 
must  all  of  the  martyrs  have  looked  when  the  fire  of  the 
faggots  licked  their  feet.  So  must  John  Bunyan  have 
stared  through  his  prison  bars  at  the  sky. 

"  Stephen,"  he  said,  "  you  have  been  faithful  in  a  few 
things.  So  shall  you  be  made  ruler  over  many  things. 
The  little  I  have  I  leave  to  you,  and  the  chief  of  this  is 
an  untarnished  name.  I  know  that  you  will  be  true  to  it 
because  I  have  tried  your  strength.  Listen  carefully  to 
what  I  have  to  say,  for  I  have  thought  over  it  long.  In 
the  days  gone  by  our  fathers  worked  for  the  good  of  the 
people,  and  they  had  no  thought  of  gain.  A  time  is  com 
ing  when  we  shall  need  that  blood  and  that  bone  in  this 
Republic.  Wealth  not  yet  dreamed  of  will  flow  out  of 
this  land,  and  the  waters  of  it  will  rot  all  save  the  pure, 
and  corrupt  all  save  the  incorruptible.  Half-tried  men 
will  go  down  before  that  flood.  You  and  those  like  you 
will  remember  how  your  fathers  governed,  —  strongly, 
sternly,  justly.  It  was  so  that  they  governed  themselves. 
Be  vigilant.  Serve  your  city,  serve  your  state,  but  above 
all  serve  your  country." 

He  paused  to  catch  his  breath,  which  was  coming  pain 
fully  now,  and  reached  out  his  bony  hand  to  seek  Stephen's. 

"  I  was  harsh  with  you  at  first,  my  son,"  he  went  on. 
"  I  wished  to  try  you.  And  when  I  had  tried  you  I 
wished  your  mind  to  open,  to  keep  pace  with  the  growth 
of  this  nation.  I  sent  you  to  see  Abraham  Lincoln  — 
that  you  might  be  born  again  —  in  the  West.  You  were 
born  again.  I  saw  it  when  you  came  back.  I  saw  it  in 


LEAD,   KINDLY   LIGHT  469 

your  face.  O  God,"  he  cried,  with  sudden  eloquence, 
"  would  that  his  hands  —  Abraham  Lincoln's  hands  — 
might  be  laid  upon  all  who  complain  and  cavil  and  criti 
cise,  and  think  of  the  little  things  in  life  !  Would  that 
his  spirit  might  possess  their  spirit  !  " 

He  stopped  again.  They  marvelled  and  were  awed,  for 
never  in  all  his  days  had  such  speech  broken  from  this  man. 

"  Good-by,  Stephen,"  he  said,  when  they  thought  he  was 
not  to  speak  again.  "  Hold  the  image  of  Abraham  Lin 
coln  in  front  of  you.  Never  forget  him.  You  —  you  are 
a  man  after  his  own  heart  —  and  — and  mine." 

The  last  word  was  scarcely  audible.  They  started  for 
ward,  for  his  eyes  were  closed.  But  presently  he  stirred 
again,  and  opened  them. 

"  Brinsmade,"  he  said,  "  Brinsmade,  take  care  of  my 
orphan  girls.  Send  Shadrach  here." 

The  negro  came  forth,  shuffling  and  sobbing,  from  the 
doorway. 

"  You  ain't  gwine  away,  Marse  Jedge  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Shadrach,  good-by.  You  have  served  me  well. 
I  have  left  you  provided  for." 

Shadrach  kissed  the  hand  of  whose  secret  charity  he  knew 
so  much.  Then  the  Judge  withdrew  it,  and  motioned  to 
him  to  rise.  He  called  his  oldest  friend  by  name.  And 
Colonel  Carvel  came  from  the  corner  where  he  had  been 
listening,  with  his  face  drawn. 

"  Good-by,  Comyn.  You  were  my  friend  when  there  was 
none  other.  You  were  true  to  me  when  the  hand  of  every 
man  was  against  me.  You  —  you  have  risked  your  life  to 
come  to  me  here.  May  God  spare  it  for  Virginia." 

At  the  sound  of  her  name,  the  girl  started.  She  came 
and  bent  over  him.  And  when  she  kissed  him  on  the 
forehead,  he  trembled. 

"  Uncle  Silas  !  "  she  faltered. 

Weakly  he  reached  up  and  put  his  hands  on  her  shoul 
ders.  He  whispered  in  her  ear.  The  tears  came  and  lay 
wet  upon  her  lashes  as  she  undid  the  button  at  his  throat. 
There,  on  a  piece  of  cotton  twine,  hung  a  little  key.  She 
took  it  off,  but  still  his  hands  held  her. 


470  THE   CRISIS 

"  I  have  saved  it  for  you,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "  God 
bless  you  — "  why  did  his  eyes  seek  Stephen's?  —  "and 
make  your  life  happy.  Virginia  —  will  you  play  my  — 
hymn  —  once  more  —  once  more  ?  " 

They  lifted  the  night  lamp  from  the  piano,  and 
the  medicine.  It  was  Stephen  who  stripped  it  of  the 
black  cloth  it  had  worn,  who  stood  by  Virginia  ready  to 
lift  the  lid  when  she  had  turned  the  lock.  The  girl's 
exaltation  gave  a  trembling  touch  divine  to  the  well- 
remembered  chords,  and  those  who  heard  were  lifted, 
lifted  far  above  and  beyond  the  power  of  earthly  spell. 

"  Lead,  Kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom, 
Lead  Thou  me  on  ! 

The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home, 
Lead  Thou  me  on. 

Keep  Thou  my  feet !  I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene  ;  one  step  enough  for  me." 

A  sigh  shook  Silas  Whipple's  wasted  frame,  and  so  he 
died. 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE   LAST  -CARD 

MR.  BRTNSMADE  and  the  Doctor  were  the  first  to  leave 
the  little  room  where  Silas  Whipple  had  lived  and  worked 
and  died,  Mr.  Brinsmade  bent  upon  one  of  those  errands 
which  claimed  him  at  all  times.  He  took  Shadrach  with 
him.  Virginia  sat  on,  a  vague  fear  haunting  her,  —  a  fear 
for  her  father's  safety.  Where  was  Clarence  ?  What 
had  he  seen  ?  Was  the  place  watched  ?  These  questions, 
at  first  intruding  upon  her  sorrow,  remained  to  torture 
her. 

Softly  she  stirred  from  the  chair  where  she  had  sat 
before  the  piano,  and  opened  the  door  of  the  outer  office. 
A  clock  in  a  steeple  near  by  was  striking  twelve.  The 
Colonel  did  not  raise  his  head.  Only  Stephen  saw  her 
go  ;  she  felt  his  eyes  following  her,  and  as  she  slipped 
out  lifted  hers  to  meet  them  for  a  brief  instant  through 
the  opening  of  the  door.  Then  it  closed  behind  her. 

First  of  all  she  knew  that  the  light  in  the  outer  office 
was  burning  dimly,  and  the  discovery  gave  her  a  shock. 
Who  had  turned  it  down  ?  Had  Clarence  ?  Was  he 
here  ?  Fearfully  searching  the  room  for  him,  her  gaze  was 
held  by  a  figure  in  the  recess  of  the  window  at  the  back  of 
the  room.  A  solid,  bulky  figure  it  was,  and,  though 
uncertainly  outlined  in  the  semi-darkness,  she  knew  it. 
She  took  a  step  nearer,  and  a  cry  escaped  her. 

The  man  was  Eliphalet  Hopper.  He  got  down  from 
the  sill  with  a  motion  at  once  sheepish  and  stealthy.  Her 
breath  caught,  and  instinctively  she  gave  back  toward  the 
door,  as  if  to  open  it  again. 

"  Hold  on  !  "  he  said.  "  I've  got  something  I  want  to 
say  to  you,  Miss  Virginia." 

471 


472  THE   CRISIS 

His  tones  seemed  strangely  natural.  They  were  not 
brutal.  But  she  shivered  and  paused,  horrified  at  the 
thought  of  what  she  was  about  to  do.  Her  father  was  in 
that  room  —  and  Stephen.  She  must  keep  them  there, 
and  get  this  man  away.  She  must  not  show  fright  before 
him,  and  yet  she  could  not  trust  her  voice  to  speak  just 
then.  She  must  not  let  him  know  that  she  was  afraid  of 
him  —  this  she  kept  repeating  to  herself.  But  how  to  act  ? 
Suddenly  an  idea  flashed  upon  her. 

Virginia  never  knew  how  she  gathered  the  courage  to 
pass  him,  even  swiftly,  and  turn  up  the  gas.  He  started 
back,  blinking  as  the  jet  flared.  For  a  moment  she  stood 
beside  it,  with  her  head  high,  confronting  him  and  striv 
ing  to  steady  herself  for  speech. 

u  Why  have  you  come  here?"  she  said.  "Judge 
Whipple  —  died  —  to-night." 

The  dominating  note  in  his  answer  was  a  whine,  as  if, 
in  spite  of  himself,  he  were  awed. 

"  I  ain't  here  to  see  the  Judge." 

She  was  pale,  and  quite  motionless.  And  she  faltered 
now.  She  felt  her  lips  moving,  but  knew  not  whether  the 
words  had  come. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

He  gained  confidence.  The  look  in  his  little  eyes  was 
the  filmy  look  of  those  of  an  animal  feasting. 

"I  came  here  to  see  you,"  he  said,  —  "you"  She  was 
staring  at  him  now,  in  horror.  "And  if  you  don't  give 
me  what  I  want,  I  cal'late  to  see  some  one  else  —  in  there," 
said  Mr.  Hopper. 

He  smiled,  for  she  was  swaying,  her  lids  half  closed. 
By  a  supreme  effort  she  conquered  her  terror  and  looked 
at  him.  The  look  was  in  his  eyes  still,  intensified  now. 

"  How  dare  you  speak  to  me  after  what  has  happened!  " 
she  said.  "  If  Colonel  Carvel  were  here,  he  would  —  kill 
you." 

He  flinched  at  the  name  and  the  word,  involuntarily. 
He  wiped  his  forehead,  hot  at  the  very  thought. 

"  I  want  to  know  !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  faint-hearted  irony. 
Then,  remembering  his  advantage,  he  stepped  close  to  her. 


•TWICE  STEPHEN  SHOOK  HIM  so  THAT  HIS  HEAD  BEAT  UPON  THE  TABLE" 


THE   LAST   CARD  473 

"  He  is  here,"  he  said,  intense  now.  "  He  is  here,  in  that 
there  room."  He  seized  her  wrists.  Virginia  struggled, 
and  yet  she  refrained  from  crying  out.  "  He  never  leaves 
this  city  without  I  choose.  I  can  have  him  hung  if  I 
choose,"  he  whispered,  next  to-  her. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  (Tried  ;  "  oh,  if  you  choose  !  " 

Still  his  body  crept  closer,  and  his  face  closer.  And  her 
strength  was  going. 

"There's  but  one  price  to  pay,"  he  said  hoarsely, 
"there's  but  one  price  to  pay,  and  that's  you  —  you.  I 
cal'late  you'll  marry  me  now." 

Delirious  at  the  touch  of  her,  he  did  not  hear  the  door 
open.  Her  senses  were  strained  for  that  very  sound. 
She  heard  it  close  again,  and  a  footstep  across  the  room. 
She  knew  the  step  —  she  knew  the  voice,  and  her  heart 
leaped  at  the  sound  of  it  in  anger.  An  arm  in  a  blue 
sleeve  came  between  them,  and  Eliphalet  Hopper  stag 
gered  and  fell  across  the  books  on  the  table,  his  hand  to 
his  face.  Above  him  towered  Stephen  Brice.  Towered 
was  the  impression  that  came  to  Virginia  then,  and  so  she 
thought  of  the  scene  ever  afterward.  Small  bits,  like 
points  of  tempered  steel,  glittered  in  Stephen's  eyes,  and 
his  hands  following  up  the  mastery  he  had  given  them 
clutched  Mr.  Hopper's  shoulders.  Twice  Stephen  shook 
him  so  that  his  head  beat  upon  the  table. 

"  You  —  you  beast  !  "  he  cried,  but  he  kept  his  voice 
low.  And  then,  as  if  he  expected  Hopper  to  reply  : 
"Shall  I  kill  you?" 

Again  he  shook  him  violently.  He  felt  Virginia's 
touch  on  his  arm. 

"  Stephen  !  "  she  cried,  "  your  wounds  !  Be  careful  ! 
Oh,  do  be  careful  !  " 

She  had  called  him  Stephen.  He  turned  slowly,  and  his 
hands  fell  from  Mr.  Hopper's  cowering  form  as  his  eyes 
met  hers.  Even  he  could  not  fathom  the  appeal,  the 
yearning,  in  their  dark  blue  depths.  And  yet  what  he  saw 
there  made  him  tremble.  She  turned  away,  trembling  too. 

"  Please  sit  down,"  she  entreated.  "  He  ^-  he  won't 
touch  me  again  while  you  are  here." 


474  THE   CRISIS 

Eliphalet  Hopper  raised  himself  from  the  desk,  and  one 
of  the  big  books  fell  with  a  crash  to  the  floor.  Then  they 
saw  him  shrink,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  some  one  behind 
them.  Before  the  Judge's  door  stood  Colonel  Carvel,  in 
calm,  familiar  posture,  his  feet  apart,  and  his  head  bent 
forward  as  he  pulled  at  his  goatee. 

"  What  is  this  man  doing  here,  Virginia  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  did  not  answer  him,  nor  did  speech  seem  to  come 
easily  to  Mr.  Hopper  in  that  instant.  Perhaps  the  sight 
of  Colonel  Carvel  had  brought  before  him  too  vividly  the 
memory  of  that  afternoon  at  Glencoe. 

All  at  once  Virginia  grasped  the  fulness  of  the  power 
in  this  man's  hands.  At  a  word  from  him  her  father 
would  be  shot  as  a  spy  —  and  Stephen  Brice,  perhaps,  as  a 
traitor.  But  if  Colonel  Carvel  should  learn  that  he  had 
seized  her,  —  here  was  the  terrible  danger  of  the  situation. 
Well  she  knew  what  the  Colonel  would  do.  Would 
Stephen  tell  him  ?  She  trusted  in  his  coolness  that  he 
would  not. 

Before  a  word  of  reply  came  from  any  of  the  three,  a 
noise  was  heard  on  the  stairway.  Some  one  was  coming 
up.  There  followed  four  seconds  of  suspense,  and  then 
Clarence  came  in.  She  saw  that  his  face  wore  a  worried, 
dejected  look.  It  changed  instantly  when  he  glanced 
about  him,  and  an  oath  broke  from  his  lips  as  he  singled 
out  Eliphalet  Hopper  standing  in  sullen  aggressiveness 
beside  the  table. 

"  So  you're  the  spy,  are  you  ? "  he  said  in  disgust. 
Then  he  turned  his  back  and  faced  his  uncle.  "  I  saw 
him  in  Williams's  entry  as  we  drove  up.  He  got  away 
from  me." 

A  thought  seemed  to  strike  him.  He  strode  to  the 
open  window  at  the  back  of  the  office,  and  looked  out. 
There  was  a  roof  under  it. 

"  The  sneak  got  in  here,"  he  said.  "  He  knew  I  was 
waiting  for  him  in  the  street.  So  you're  the  spy,  are 
you  ?  " 

Mr.  Hopper  passed  a  heavy  hand  across,  the  cheek  where 
Stephen  had  struck  him. 


THE  LAST  CAKD  475 

"  No,  I  ain't  the  spy,"  he  said,  with  a  meaning  glance  at 
the  Colonel. 

"  Then  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  demanded  Clarence, 
fiercely. 

"I  cal'late  that  Tie  knows,"  Eliphalet  replied,  jerking 
his  head  toward  Colonel  Carvel.  "  Where's  his  Confed 
erate  uniform  ?  What's  to  prevent  my  calling  up  the 
provost's  guard  below  ?  "  he  continued,  with  a  smile  that 
was  hideous  on  his  swelling  face. 

It  was  the  Colonel  who  answered  him,  very  quickly  and 
very  clearly. 

"  Nothing  whatever,  Mr.  Hopper,"  he  said.  "  This  is 
the  way  out."  He  pointed  at  the  door.  Stephen,  who 
was  watching  him,  could  not  tell  whether  it  were  a  grim 
smile  that  creased  the  corners  of  the  Colonel's  mouth  as 
he  added,  u  You  might  prefer  the  window." 

Mr.  Hopper  did  not  move,  but  his  eyes  shifted  to  Vir 
ginia's  form.  Stephen  deliberately  thrust  himself  between 
them  that  he  might  not  see  her. 

"  What  are  you  waiting  for  ?  "  said  the  Colonel,  in  the 
mild  voice  that  should  have  been  an  ominous  warning. 

Still  Mr.  Hopper  did  not  move.  It  was  clear  that  he 
had  not  reckoned  upon  all  of  this;  that  he  had  waited  in  the 
window  to  deal  with  Virginia  alone.  But  now  the  very 
force  of  a  desire  which  had  gathered  strength  in  many 
years  made  him  reckless.  His  voice  took  on  the  oily 
quality  in  which  he  was  wont  to  bargain. 

"  Let's  be  calm  about  this  business,  Colonel,"  he  said. 
"  We  won't  say  anything  about  the  past.  But  1  ain't  set 
on  having  you  shot.  There's  a  consideration  that  would 
stop  me,  and  I  cal'late  you  know  what  it  is." 

Then  the  Colonel  made  a  motion.  But  before  he  had 
taken  a  step  Virginia  had  crossed  the  room  swiftly,  and 
flung  herself  upon  him. 

"  Oh,  don't,  Pa  !  "  she  cried.  "  Don't  !  Tell  him  that  I 
will  agree  to  it.  Yes,  I  will.  I  can't  have  you  —  shot." 
The  last  word  came  falteringly,  faintly. 

"  Let  me  go,  —  honey,"  whispered  the  Colonel,  gently. 
His  eyes  did  not  leave  Eliphalet.  He  tried  to  disengage 


476  THE   CRISIS 

himself,  but  her  fingers  were  clasped  about  his  neck  in  a 
passion  of  fear  and  love.  And  then,  while  she  clung  to 
him,  her  head  was  raised  to  listen.  The  sound  of  Stephen 
Brice's  voice  held  her  as  in  a  spell.  His  words  were  com 
ing  coldly,  deliberately,  and  yet  so  sharply  that  each 
seemed  to  fall  like  a  lash. 

"  Mr.  Hopper,  if  ever  I  hear  of  your  repeating  what 
you  have  seen  or  heard  in  this  room,  I  will  make  this  city 
and  this  state  too  hot  for  you  to  live  in.  I  know  you.  I 
know  how  you  hide  in  areas,  how  you  talk  sedition  in 
private,  how  you  have  made  money  out  of  other  men's 
misery.  And,  what  is  more,  I  can  prove  that  you  have 
had  traitorous  dealings  with  the  Confederacy.  General 
Sherman  has  been  good  enough  to  call  himself  a  friend  of 
mine,  and  if  he  prosecutes  you  for  your  dealings  in  Mem 
phis,  you  will  get  a  term  in  a  Government  prison.  You 
ought  to  be  hung.  Colonel  Carvel  has  shown  you  the 
door.  Now  go." 

And  Mr.  Hopper  went. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

FROM   THE   LETTERS   OF   MAJOR   STEPHEN   BRICE 

Of  the  Staff  of  General  Sherman  on  the  March  to  the  Sea, 
and  on  the  March  from  Savannah  Northward 

HEADQUARTERS  MILITARY  DIVISION  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI. 
GOLDSBORO,  N.C.    MARCH  24,  1865. 

DEAR  MOTHER  :  The  South  Carolina  Campaign  is  a 
thing  of  the  past.  I  pause  as  I  write  these  words  —  they 
seem  so  incredible  to  me.  We  have  marched  the  four 
hundred  and  twenty-five  miles  in  fifty  days,  and  the  Gen 
eral  himself  has  said  that  it  is  the  longest  and  most  im 
portant  march  ever  made  by  an  organized  army  in  a 
civilized  country.  I  know  that  you  will  not  be  misled 
by  the  words  "  civilized  country."  Not  until  the  history 
of  this  campaign  is  written  will  the  public  realize  the 
wide  rivers  and  all  but  impassable  swamps  we  have 
crossed  with  our  baggage  trains  and  artillery.  The 
roads  (by  courtesy  so  called)  were  a  sea  of  molasses  ; 
and  every  mile  of  them  has  had  to  be  corduroyed.  For 
fear  of  worrying  you  I  did  not  write  you  from  Savannah 
how  they  laughed  at  us  for  starting  at  that  season  of  the 
year.  They  said  we  would  not  go  ten  miles,  and  I  most 
solemnly  believe  that  no  one  but  "  Uncle  Billy  "  and  an 
army  organized  and  equipped  by  him  could  have  gone 
ten  miles.  Nothing  seems  to  stop  him.  You  have 
probably  remarked  in  the  tone  of  my  letters  ever  since 
we  left  Kingston  for  the  sea,  a  growing  admiration  for 
"my  General." 

It  seems  very  strange  that  this  wonderful  tactician  can  be 
the  same  man  I  met  that  day  going  to  the  Arsenal  in  the 
street  car,  and  again  at  Camp  Jackson.  I  am  sure  that  his- 

477 


478  THE  CRISIS 

tory  will  give  him  a  high  place  among  the  commanders  of  the 
world.  Certainly  none  was  ever  more  tireless  than  he. 
He  never  fights  a  battle  when  it  can  be  avoided,  and  his 
march  into  Columbia  while  threatening  Charleston  arid 
Augusta  was  certainly  a  master  stroke  of  strategy. 

I  think  his  simplicity  his  most  remarkable  trait.  You 
should  see  him  as  he  rides  through  the  army,  an  erect 
figure,  with  his  clothes  all  angular  and  awry,  and  an  ex 
panse  of  white  sock  showing  above  his  low  shoes.  You 
can  hear  his  name  running  from  file  to  file  ;  and  some 
times  the  new  regiments  can't  resist  cheering.  He  gen 
erally  says  to  the  Colonel  :  — 

"  Stop  that  noise,  sir.     Don't  like  it." 

On  our  march  to  the  sea,  if  the  orders  were  ever  given 
to  turn  northward,  "the  boys  "  would  get  very  much  de 
pressed.  One  moonlight  night  I  was  walking  my  horse 
close  to  the  General's  over  the  pine  needles,  when  we 
overheard  this  conversation  between  two  soldiers:  - 

"Say,  John,"  said  one,  "I  guess  Uncle  Billy  don't 
know  our  corps  is  goin'  north." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  does,"  said  John.  "  If  I  could  only 
get  a  sight  of  them  white  socks,  I'd  know  it  was  all 
right." 

The  General  rode  past  without  a  word,  but  I  heard  him 
telling  the  story  to  Mower  the  next  day. 

I  can  find  little  if  any  change  in  his  manner  since  I 
knew  him  first.  He  is  brusque,  but  kindly,  and  he  has 
the  same  comradeship  with  officers  and  men  —  and  even 
the  negroes  who  flock  to  our  army.  But  few  dare  to  take 
advantage  of  it,  and  they  never  do  so  twice.  I  have  been 
very  near  to  him,  and  have  tried  not  to  worry  him  or  ask 
many  foolish  questions.  Sometimes  on  the  march  he  will 
beckon  me  to  close  up  to  him,  and  we  have  a  conversation 
something  on  this  order  :  — 

"  There's  Kenesaw,  Brice." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Pointing  with  his  arm. 

"  Went  beyond  lines  there  with  small  party.  Rebel 
battery  on  summit.  Had  to  git.  Fired  on.  Next  day  I 


FROM  THE  LETTERS  OF  STEPHEN  BRICE  479 

thought  Rebels  would  leave  in  the  night.  Got  up  before 
daylight,  fixed  telescope  on  stand,  and  waited.  Watched 
top  of  Kenesaw.  No  Rebel.  Saw  one  blue  man  creep  up, 
very  cautious,  looked  around,  waved  his  hat.  Rebels  gone. 
Thought  so." 

This  gives  you  but  a  faint  idea  of  the  vividness  of  his 
talk.  When  we  make  a  halt  for  any  time,  the  general 
officers  and  their  staffs  flock  to  headquarters  to  listen  to 
his  stories.  When  anything  goes  wrong,  his  perception  of 
it  is  like  a  lightning  flash,  —  and  he  acts  as  quickly. 

By  the  way,  I  have  just  found  the  letter  he  wrote  me, 
offering  this  staff  position.  Please  keep  it  carefully,  as 
it  is  something  I  shall  value  all  my  life. 

GAYLESVILLE,  ALABAMA,  October  25,  1864. 
MAJOR  STEPHEN  A.  BRICE: 

Dear  Sir,  —  The  world  goes  on,  and  wicked  men  sound  asleep. 
Davis  has  sworn  to  destroy  my  army,  and  Beauregard  has  come 
to  do  the  work,  —  so  if  you  expect  to  share  in  our  calamity, 
come  down.  I  offer  you  this  last  chance  for  staff  duty,  and 
hope  you  have  had  enough  in  the  field.  I  do  not  wish  to 
hurry  you,  but  you  can't  get  aboard  a  ship  at  sea.  So  if  you 
want  to  make  the  trip,  come  to  Chattanooga  and  take  your 
chances  of  meeting  me. 

Yours  truly, 

W.  T.  SHERMAN,  Major  General. 

One  night  —  at  Cheraw,  I  think  it  was  —  he  sent  for 
me  to  talk  to  him.  I  found  him  lying  on  a  bed  of  Spanish 
moss  they  had  made  for  him.  He  asked  me  a  great  many 
questions  about  St.  Louis,  and  praised  Mr.  Brinsmade, 
especially  his  management  of  the  Sanitary  Commission. 

"  Brice,"  he  said,  after  a  while,  "  you  remember  when 
Grant  sent  me  to  beat  off  Joe  Johnston's  army  from  Vicks- 
burg.  You  were  wounded  then,  by  the  way,  in  that  dash 
Lauman  made.  Grant  thought  he  ought  to  warn  me 
against  Johnston. 

" '  He's  wily,  Sherman,'  said  he.  4  He's  a  dangerous 
man.' 

" '  Grant,'  said  I,  4  you  give  me  men  enough  and  time 


480  THE  CKISIS 

enough  to  look  over  the  ground,  and  I'm  not  afraid  of  the 
devil." 

Nothing  could  sum  up  the  man  better  than  that.  And 
now  what  a  trick  of  fate  it  is  that  he  has  Johnston  before 
him  again,  in  what  we  hope  will  prove  the  last  gasp  of  the 
war  !  He  likes  Johnston,  by  the  way,  and  has  the  greatest 
respect  for  him. 

I  wish  you  could  have  peeped  into  our  camp  once  in  a 
while.  In  the  rare  bursts  of  sunshine  on  this  march  our 
premises  have  been  decorated  with  gay  red  blankets,  and 
sombre  gray  ones  brought  from  the  quartermasters,  and 
white  Hudson's  Bay  blankets  (not  so  white  now),  all  being 
between  forked  sticks.  It  is  wonderful  how  the  pitching 
of  a  few  tents,  and  the  busy  crackle  of  a  few  fires,  and  the 
sound  of  voices  —  sometimes  merry,  sometimes  sad,  depend 
ing  on  the  weather,  will  change  the  look  of  a  lonely  pine 
knoll.  You  ask  me  how  we  fare.  I  should  be  heartily 
ashamed  if  a  word  of  complaint  ever  fell  from  my  lips. 
But  the  men  !  Whenever  I  wake  up  at  night  with  my 
feet  in  a  puddle  between  the  blankets,  I  think  of  the  men. 
The  corduroy  roads  which  our  horses  stumble  over 
through  the  mud,  they  make  as  well  as  march  on.  Our 
flies  are  carried  in  wagons,  and  our  utensils  and  provisions. 
They  must  often  bear  on  their  backs  the  little  dog-tents, 
under  which,  put  up  by  their  own  labor,  they  crawl  to 
sleep,  wrapped  in  a  blanket  they  have  carried  all  day, 
perhaps  waist  deep  in  water.  The  food  they  eat  has  been 
in  their  haversacks  for  many  a  weary  mile,  and  is  cooked 
in  the  little  skillet  and  pot  which  have  also  been  a  part  of 
their  burden.  Then  they  have  their  musket  and  accoutre 
ments,  and  the  "  forty  rounds  "  at  their  backs.  Patiently, 
cheerily  tramping  along,  going  they  know  not  where,  nor 
care  much  either,  so  it  be  not  in  retreat.  Ready  to  make 
roads,  throw  up  works,  tear  up  railroads,  or  hew  out  and 
build  wooden  bridges ;  or,  best  of  all,  to  go  for  the  John 
nies  under  hot  sun  or  heavy  rain,  through  swamp  and  mire 
and  quicksand.  They  marched  ten  miles  to  storm  Fort 
McAllister.  And  how  the  cheers  broke  from  them  when 
the  pop  pop  pop  of  the  skirmish  line  began  after  we  came 


FEOM  THE  LETTERS   OF   STEPHEN   BRICE    481 

in  sight  of  Savannah  !  No  man  who  has  seen  but  not 
shared  their  life  may  talk  of  personal  hardship. 

We  arrived  at  this  pretty  little  town  yesterday,  so 
effecting  a  junction  with  Schofield,  who  got  in  with  the 
23d  Corps  the  day  before.  I  am  writing  at  General 
Schofield's  headquarters.  There  was  a  bit  of  a  battle  on 
Tuesday  at  Bentonville,  and  we  have  come  hither  in 
smoke,  as  usual.  But  this  time  we  thank  Heaven  that 
it  is  not  the  smoke  of  burning  homes,  —  only  some  resin 
the  "Johnnies"  set  on  fire  before  they  left. 

I  must  close.     General  Sherman  has  just  sent  for  me. 

ON  BOARD  DESPATCH  BOAT  "  MARTIN." 
AT  SEA,  March  25,  1865. 

DEAR  MOTHER  :  A  most  curious  thing  has  happened. 
But  I  may  as  well  begin  at  the  beginning.  When  I 
stopped  writing  last  evening  at  the  summons  of  the 
General,  I  was  about  to  tell  you  something  of  the  battle 
of  Bentonville  on  Tuesday  last.  Mower  charged  through 
as  bad  a  piece  of  wood  and  swamp  as  I  ever  saw,  and  got 
within  one  hundred  yards  of  Johnston  himself,  who  was 
at  the  bridge  across  Mill  Creek.  Of  course  we  did  not 
know  this  at  the  time,  and  learned  it  from  prisoners. 

As  I  have  written  you,  I  have  been  under  fire  very 
little  since  coming  to  the  staff.  When  the  battle  opened, 
however,  I  saw  that  if  I  stayed  with  the  General  (who 
was  then  behind  the  reserves)  I  would  see  little  or 
nothing  ;  I  went  ahead  "  to  get  information  "  beyond  the 
line  of  battle  into  the  woods.  I  did  not  find  these 
favorable  to  landscape  views,  and  just  as  I  was  turning 
my  horse  back  again  I  caught  sight  of  a  commotion  some 
distance  to  my  right.  The  Rebel  skirmish  line  had 
fallen  back  just  that  instant,  two  of  our  skirmishers  were 
grappling  with  a  third  man,  who  was  fighting  desperately. 
It  struck  me  as  singular  that  the  fellow  was  not  in  gray, 
but  had  on  some  sort  of  dark  clothes. 

I  could  not  reach  them  in  the  swamp  on  horseback, 
and  was  in  the  act  of  dismounting  when  the  man  fell, 
and  then  they  set  out  to  carry  him  to  the  rear,  still 
2i 


482  THE   CKISIS 

farther  to  my  right,  beyond  the  swamp.  I  shouted,  and 
one  of  the  skirmishers  came  up.  I  asked  him  what  the 
matter  was. 

"  We've  got  a  spy,  sir,"  he  said  excitedly. 

"A  spy!     Here?" 

"  Yes,  Major.  He  was  hid  in  the  thicket  yonder, 
lying  flat  on  his  face.  He  reckoned  that  our  boys  would 
run  right  over  him  and  that  he'd  get  into  our  lines  that 
way.  Tim  Foley  stumbled  on  him,  and  he  put  up  as 
good  a  fight  with  his  fists  as  any  man  I  ever  saw." 

Just  then  a  regiment  swept  past  us.  That  night  I  told 
the  General,  who  sent  over  to  the  headquarters  of  the 
17th  Corps  to  inquire.  The  word  came  back  that  the 
man's  name  was  Addison,  and  he  claimed  to  be  a  Union 
sympathizer  who  owned  a  plantation  near  by.  He  de 
clared  that  he  had  been  conscripted  by  the  Rebels,  wounded, 
sent  back  home,  and  was  now  about  to  be  pressed  in  again. 
He  had  taken  this  method  of  escaping  to  our  lines.  It 
was  a  common  story  enough,  but  General  Mower  added 
in  his  message  that  he  thought  the  story  fishy.  This  was 
because  the  man's  appearance  was  very  striking,  and  he 
seemed  the  type  of  Confederate  fighter  who  would  do  and 
dare  anything.  He  had  a  wound,  which  had  been  a  bad 
one,  evidently  got  from  a  piece  of  shell.  But  they  had 
been  able  to  find  nothing  on  him.  Sherman  sent  back 
word  to  keep  the  man  until  he  could  see  him  in  person. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  last  night  when  I  reached 
the  house  the  General  has  taken.  A  prisoner's  guard 
was  resting  outside,  and  the  hall  was  full  of  officers. 
They  said  that  the  General  was  awaiting  me,  and  pointed 
to  the  closed  door  of  a  room  that  had  been  the  dining 
room.  I  opened  it. 

Two  candles  were  burning  in  pewter  sticks  on  the  bare 
mahogany  table.  There  was  the  General  sitting  beside 
them,  with  his  legs  crossed,  holding  some  crumpled  tissue 
paper  very  near  his  eyes,  and  reading.  He  did  not  look 
up  when  I  entered.  I  was  aware  of  a  man  standing,  tall 
and  straight,  just  out  of  range  of  the  candles'  rays.  He 
wore  the  easy  dress  of  a  Southern  planter,  with  the  broad 


FROM  THE  LETTERS   OF  STEPHEN   BRICE    483 

felt  hat.  The  head  was  flung  back  so  that  there  was  just 
a  patch  of  light  on  the  chin,  and  the  lids  of  the  eyes  in 
the  shadow  were  half  closed. 

My  sensations  are  worth  noting.  For  the  moment 
I  felt  precisely  as  I  had  when  I  was  hit  by  that  bullet  in 
Lauman's  charge.  I  was  aware  of  something  very  like 
pain,  yet  I  could  not  place  the  cause  of  it.  But  this  is 
what  since  has  made  me  feel  queer :  you  doubtless  re 
member  staying  at  Hollingdean,  when  I  was  a  boy,  and 
hearing  the  story  of  Lord  Northwell's  daredevil  Royalist 
ancestor,  —  the  one  with  the  lace  collar  over  the  dull-gold 
velvet,  and  the  pointed  chin,  and  the  lazy  scorn  in  the 
eves.  Those  eyes  are  painted  with  drooping  lids.  The 
nrst  time  I  saw  Clarence  Colfax  I  thought  of  that  picture 

—  and  now  I  thought  of  the  picture  first. 
The  General's  voice  startled  me. 

"  Major  Brice,  do  you  know  this  gentleman  ? "  he 
asked. 

"Yes,  General." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  " 

"His  name  is  Colfax,  sir  —  Colonel  Colfax,  I  think." 

"  Thought  so,"  said  the  General. 

I  have  thought  much  of  that  scene  since,  as  I  am  steam 
ing  northward  over  green  seas  and  under  cloudless  skies, 
and  it  has  seemed  very  unreal.  I  should  almost  say 
supernatural  when  I  reflect  how  I  have  run  across  this 
man  again  and  again,  and  always  opposing  him.  I  can 
recall  just  how  he  looked  at  the  slave  auction,  which 
seems  so  long  ago :  very  handsome,  very  boyish,  and 
yet  with  the  air  of  one  to  be  deferred  to.  It  was  suffi 
ciently  remarkable  that  I  should  have  found  him  in  Vicks- 
burg.  But  now  —  to  be  brought  face  to  face  with  him 
in  this  old  dining  room  in  Goldsboro' !  And  he  a  prisoner 

—  a  spy. 

He  had  not  moved.  I  did  not  know  how  he  would  act, 
but  I  went  up  to  him  and  held  out  my  hand,  and  said  :  — 

"  How  do  you  do,  Colonel  Colfax  ?  " 

I  am  sure  that  my  voice  was  not  very  steady,  for  I  can 
not  help  liking  him.  And  then  his  face  lighted  up  and 


484  THE   CRISIS 

he  gave  me  his  hand.  And  he  smiled  at  me  and  again  at 
the  General,  as  much  as  to  say  that  it  was  all  over.  He 
has  a  wonderful  smile. 

"  We  seem  to  run  into  each  other,  Major  Brice,"  said 
he. 

The  pluck  of  the  man  was  superb.  I  could  see  that  the 
General,  too,  was  moved,  from  the  way  he  looked  at  him. 
And  he  speaks  a  little  more  abruptly  at  such  times. 

"  Guess  that  settles  it,  Colonel,"  he  said. 

"  I  reckon  it  does,  General,"  said  Clarence,  still  smiling. 

The  General  turned  from  him  to  the  table  with  a  kind 
of  jerk  and  clapped  his  hand  on  the  tissue  paper. 

"  These  speak  for  themselves,  sir,"  he  said.  "  It  is  very 
plain  that  they  would  have  reached  the  prominent  citizens 
for  whom  they  were  intended  if  you  had  succeeded  in 
your  enterprise.  You  were  captured  out  of  uniform. 
You  know  enough  of  war  to  appreciate  the  risk  you  ran. 
Any  statement  to  make  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  Call  Captain  Vaughan,  Brice,  and  ask  him  to  conduct 
the  prisoner  back." 

"  May  I  speak  to  him,  General  ?  "  I  asked.  The  Gen 
eral  nodded. 

I  asked  him  if  I  could  write  home  for  him  — or  do  any 
thing  else.  That  seemed  to  touch  him.  Some  day  I  shall 
tell  you  what  he  said. 

Then  Vaughan  took  him  out,  and  I  heard  the  guard 
shoulder  arms  and  tramp  away  in  the  night.  The  General 
and  I  were  left  alone  with  the  mahogany  table  between 
us,  and  a  family  portrait  of  somebody  looking  down  on 
us  from  the  shadow  on  the  wall.  A  moist  spring  air  came 
in  at  the  open  windows,  and  the  candles  nickered.  After 
a  silence,  I  ventured  to  say  :  — 

"  I  hope  he  won't  be  shot,  General." 

"  Don't  know,  Brice,"  he  answered.  "  Can't  tell  now. 
Hate  to  shoot  him,  but  war  is  war.  Magnificent  class  he 
belongs  to — pity  we  should  have  to  fight  those  fellows." 
He  paused,  and  drummed  on  the  table.  "  Brice,"  said  he, 
"  I'm  going  to  send  you  to  General  Grant  at  City  Point 


FROM   THE   LETTERS   OF   STEPHEN   BRICE     485 

with  despatches.  I'm  sorry  Dunn  went  back  yesterday, 
but  it  can't  be  helped.  Can  you  start  in  half  an  hour  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

44  You'll  have  to  ride  to  Kins  ton.  The  railroad  won't 
be  through  until  to-morrow.  I'll  telegraph  there,  and  to 
General  Easton  at  Morehead  City.  He'll  have  a  boat  for 
you.  Tell  Grant  I  expect  to  run  up  there  in  a  day  or  two 
myself,  when  things  are  arranged  here.  You  may  wait 
until  I  come." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

I  turned  to  go,  but  Clarence  Colfax  was  on  my  mind. 

44  General  ?  " 

"Eh!  what?" 

44  General,  could  you  hold  Colonel  Colfax  until  I  see  you 
again  ?  " 

It  was  a  bold  thing  to  say,  and  I  quaked.  And  he 
looked  at  me  in  his  keen  way,  through  and  through. 

44  You  saved  his  life  once  before,  didn't  you  ? " 

44  You  allowed  me  to  have  him  sent  home  from  Vicks- 
burg,  sir." 

He  answered  with  one  of  his  jokes  —  apropos  of  some 
thing  he  said  on  the  Court  House  steps  at  Vicksburg. 
Perhaps  I  shall  tell  it  to  you  sometime. 

44  Well,  well,"  he  said,  "I'll  see,  I'll  see.  Thank  God 
this  war  is  pretty  near  over.  I'll  let  you  know,  Brice, 
before  I  shoot  him." 

I  rode  the  thirty  odd  miles  to  Kinston  in  a  little  more 
than  three  hours.  A  locomotive  was  waiting  for  me,  and 
I  jumped  into  a  cab  with  a  friendly  engineer.  Soon  we 
were  roaring  seaward  through  the  vast  pine  forests.  It 
was  a  lonely  journey,  and  you  were  much  in  my  mind. 
My  greatest  apprehension  was  that  we  might  be  derailed 
and  the  despatches  captured  ;  for  as  fast  as  our  army 
had  advanced,  the  track  of  it  had  closed  again,  like  the 
wake  of  a  ship  at  sea.  Guerillas  were  roving  about,  tear 
ing  up  ties  and  destroying  bridges. 

There  was  one  five-minute  interval  of  excitement  when, 
far  down  the  tunnel  through  the  forest,  we  saw  a  light 
gleaming.  The  engineer  said  there  was  no  house  there  — 


486  THE   CRISIS 

that  it  must  be  a  fire.  But  we  did  not  slacken  our  speed, 
and  gradually  the  leaping  flames  grew  larger  and  redder 
until  we  were  upon  them. 

Not  one  gaunt  figure  stood  between  them  and  us.  Not 
one  shot  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night.  As  dawn  broke 
I  beheld  the  flat,  gray  waters  of  the  Sound  stretching  away 
to  the  eastward,  and  there  was  the  boat  at  the  desolate 
wharf  beside  the  warehouse,  her  steam  rising  white  in  the 
chill  morning  air. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   SAME,    CONTINUED 

HEADQUARTERS  ARMIES  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES, 
CITY  POINT,  VIRGINIA,  March  28,  1865. 

DEAR  MOTHER  :  I  arrived  here  safely  the  day  before 
yesterday,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  soon  receive  some  of 
the  letters  I  forwarded  on  that  day.  It  is  an  extraordinary 
place,  this  City  Point ;  a  military  city  sprung  up  like  a 
mushroom  in  a  winter.  And  my  breath  was  quite  taken 
away  when  I  first  caught  sight  of  it  on  the  high  table-land. 
The  great  bay  in  front  of  it,  which  the  Appomattox  helps 
to  make,  is  a  maze  of  rigging  and  smoke-pipes,  like  the 
harbor  of  a  prosperous  seaport.  There  are  gunboats  and 
supply  boats,  schooners  and  square-riggers  and  steamers, 
all  huddled  together,  and  our  captain  pointed  out  to  me 
the  Malvern  flying  Admiral  Porter's  flag.  Barges  were 
tied  up  at  the  long  wharves,  and  these  were  piled  high 
with  wares  and  flanked  by  squat  warehouses.  Although 
it  was  Sunday,  a  locomotive  was  puffing  and  panting  along 
the  foot  of  the  ragged  bank. 

High  above,  on  the  flat  promontory  between  the  two 
rivers,  is  the  city  of  tents  and  wooden  huts,  the  great  trees 
in  their  fresh  faint  green  towering  above  the  low  roofs. 
At  the  point  of  the  bluff  a  large  flag  drooped  against  its 
staff,  and  I  did  not  have  to  be  told  that  this  was  General 
Grant's  headquarters. 

There  was  a  fine  steamboat  lying  at  the  wharf,  and  I 
had  hardly  stepped  ashore  before  they  told  me  she  was 
President  Lincoln's.  I  read  the  name  on  her  —  the  River 
Queen.  Yes,  the  President  is  here,  too,  with  his  wife  and 
family. 

There  are  many  fellows  here  with  whom  I  was  brought 

487 


488  THE   CRISIS 

up  in  Boston.  I  am  living  with  Jack  Hancock,  whom  you 
will  remember  well.  He  is  a  captain  now,  and  has  a 
beard. 

But  I  must  go  on  with  my  story.  I  went  straight  to 
General  Grant's  headquarters,  —  just  a  plain,  rough  slat 
house  such  as  a  contractor  might  build  for  a  temporary 
residence.  Only  the  high  flagstaff  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
distinguish  it  from  many  others  of  the  same  kind.  A 
group  of  officers  stood  chatting  outside  of  it,  and  they  told 
me  that  the  General  had  walked  over  to  get  his  mail. 
He  is  just  as  unassuming  and  democratic  as  "  my  general." 
General  Rankin  took  me  into  the  office,  a  rude  room,  and 
we  sat  down  at  the  long  table  there.  Presently  the  door 
opened,  and  a  man  came  in  with  a  slouch  hat  on  and  his 
coat  unbuttoned.  He  was  smoking  a  cigar.  We  rose  to 
our  feet,  and  I  saluted. 

It  was  the  general-in-chief.  He  stared  at  me,  but  said 
nothing. 

"  General,  this  is  Major  Brice  of  General  Sherman's 
staff.  He  has  brought  despatches  from  Goldsboro',"  said 
Rankin. 

He  nodded,  took  off  his  hat  and  laid  it  on  the  table, 
and  reached  out  for  the  despatches.  While  reading  them 
he  did  not  move,  except  to  light  another  cigar.  I  am 
getting  hardened  to  unrealities,  —  perhaps  I  should  say 
marvels,  now.  Our  country  abounds  in  them.  It  did 
not  seem  so  strange  that  this  silent  General  with  the 
baggy  trousers  was  the  man  who  had  risen  by  leaps  and 
bounds  in  four  years  to  be  general-in-chief  of  our  armies. 
His  face  looks  older  and  more  sunken  than  it  did  on  that 
day  in  the  street  near  the  Arsenal,  in  St.  Louis,  when 
he  was  just  a  military  carpet-bagger  out  of  a  job.  He 
is  not  changed  otherwise.  But  how  different  the  im 
pressions  made  by  the  man  in  authority  and  the  same  man 
out  of  authority  ! 

He  made  a  sufficient  impression  upon  me  then,  as  I 
told  you  at  the  time.  That  was  because  I  overheard  his 
well-merited  rebuke  to  Hopper.  But  I  little  dreamed 
that  I  was  looking  on  the  man  who  was  to  come  out  of 


THE   SAME,   CONTINUED  489 

the  West  and  save  this  country  from  disunion.  And  how 
quietly  and  simply  he  has  done  it,  without  parade  or 
pomp  or  vainglory.  Of  all  those  who,  with  every  means 
at  their  disposal,  have  tried  to  conquer  Lee,  he  is  the 
only  one  who  has  in  any  manner  succeeded.  He  has 
been  able  to  hold  him  fettered  while  Sherman  has  swept 
the  Confederacy.  And  these  are  the  two  men  who  were 
unknown  when  the  war  began. 

When  the  General  had  finished  reading  the  despatches, 
he  folded  them  quickly  and  put  them  in  his  pocket. 

"  Sit  down  and  tell  me  about  this  last  campaign  of 
yours,  Major,"  he  said. 

I  talked  with  him  for  about  half  an  hour.  I  should 
rather  say  talked  to  him.  He  is  a  marked  contrast  to 
Sherman  in  this  respect.  I  believe  that  he  only  opened 
his  lips  to  ask  two  questions.  You  may  well  believe  that 
they  were  worth  the  asking,  and  they  revealed  an  in 
timate  knowledge  of  our  march  from  Savannah.  I  was 
interrupted  many  times  by  the  arrival  of  different  gen 
erals,  aides,  etc.  He  sat  there  smoking,  imperturbable. 
Sometimes  he  said  "  yes  "  or  "  no,"  but  oftener  he  merely 
nodded  his  head.  Once  he  astounded  by  a  brief  question 
an  excitable  young  lieutenant,  who  floundered.  The 
General  seemed  to  know  more  than  he  about  the  matter 
he  had  in  hand. 

When  I  left  him,  he  asked  me  where  I  was  quartered, 
and  said  he  hoped  I  would  be  comfortable. 

Jack  Hancock  was  waiting  for  me,  and  we  walked 
around  the  city,  which  even  has  barber  shops.  Every 
where  were  signs  of  preparation,  for  the  roads  are  getting 
dry,  and  the  General  preparing  for  a  final  campaign 
against  Lee.  Poor  Lee !  What  a  marvellous  fight  he 
has  made  with  his  material.  I  think  that  he  will  be 
reckoned  among  the  greatest  generals  of  our  race. 

Of  course,  I  was  very  anxious  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the 
President,  and  so  we  went  down  to  the  wharf,  where  we 
heard  that  he  had  gone  off  for  a  horseback  ride.  They 
say  that  he  rides  nearly  every  day,  over  the  corduroy  roads 
and  through  the  swamps,  and  wherever  the  boys  see  that 


490  THE  CRISIS 

tall  hat  they  cheer.  They  know  it  as  well  as  the  lookout 
tower  on  the  flats  of  Bermuda  Hundred.  He  lingers  at 
the  campfires  and  swaps  stories  with  the  officers,  and 
entertains  the  sick  and  wounded  in  the  hospitals.  Isn't 
it  like  him  ? 

He  hasn't  changed,  either.  I  believe  that  the  great  men 
don't  change.  Away  with  your  Napoleons  and  your  Marl- 
boroughs  and  your  Stuarts.  These  are  the  days  of  sim 
ple  men  who  command  by  force  of  character,  as  well  as 
knowledge.  Thank  God  for  the  American  !  I  believe 
that  he  will  change  the  world,  and  strip  it  of  its  vainglory 
and  hypocrisy. 

In  the  evening,  as  we  were  sitting  around  Hancock's 
fire,  an  officer  came  in. 

"  Is  Major  Brice  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  jumped  up. 

"  The  President  sends  his  compliments,  Major,  and  wants 
to  know  if  you  would  care  to  pay  him  a  little  visit." 

If  I  would  care  to  pay  him  a  little  visit  !  That  officer 
had  to  hurry  to  keep  up  with  me  as  I  walked  to  the  wharf. 
He  led  me  aboard  the  River  Queen,  and  stopped  at  the 
door  of  the  after-cabin. 

Mr.  Lincoln  was  sitting  under  the  lamp,  slouched  down 
in  his  chair,  in  the  position  I  remembered  so  well.  It  wTas 
as  if  I  had  left  him  but  yesterday.  He  was  whittling, 
and  he  had  made  some  little  toy  for  his  son  Tad,  who  ran 
out  as  I  entered. 

When  he  saw  me,  the  President  rose  to  his  great  height, 
a  sombre,  towering  figure  in  black.  He  wears  a  scraggly 
beard  now.  But  the  sad  smile,  the  kindly  eyes  in  their 
dark  caverns,  the  voice  —  all  were  just  the  same.  I  stopped 
when  I  looked  upon  the  face.  It  was  sad  and  lined  when 
I  had  known  it,  but  now  all  the  agony  endured  by  the 
millions,  North  and  South,  seemed  written  on  it. 

u  Don't  you  remember  me,  Major?"  he  asked. 

The  wonder  was  that  he  had  remembered  me  !  I  took 
his  big,  bony  hand,  which  reminded  me  of  Judge  Whipple's. 
Yes,  it  was  just  as  if  I  had  been  with  him  always,  and  he 
were  still  the  gaunt  country  lawyer. 


THE   SAME,   CONTINUED  491 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  said,  "indeed  I  do." 

He  looked  at  me  with  that  queer  expression  of  mirth  he 
sometimes  has. 

"  Are  these  Boston  ways,  Steve?"  he  asked.  "They're 
tenacious.  I  didn't  think  that  any  man  could  travel  so 
close  to  Sherman  and  keep  'em." 

"  They're  unfortunate  ways,  sir,"  I  said,  "  if  they  lead 
you  to  misjudge  me." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  just  as  he  had  done 
at  Freeport. 

"  I  know  you,  Steve,"  he  said.  "  I  shuck  an  ear  of  corn 
before  I  buy  it.  I've  kept  tab  on  you  a  little  the  last  five 
years,  and  when  I  heard  Sherman  had  sent  a  Major  Brice 
up  here,  I  sent  for  you." 

What  I  said  was  boyish.  "  I  tried  very  hard  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  you  to-day,  Mr.  Lincoln.  I  wanted  to  see  you 
again." 

He  was  plainly  pleased. 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  Steve,"  he  said.  "  Then  you  haven't 
joined  the  ranks  of  the  grumblers  ?  You  haven't  been  one 
of  those  who  would  have  liked  to  try  running  this  country 
for  a  day  or  two,  just  to  show  me  how  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  I  said,  laughing. 

"  Good  !  "  he  cried,  slapping  his  knee.  "  I  didn't  think 
you  were  that  kind,  Steve.  Now  sit  down  and  tell  me 
about  this  General  of  mine  who  wears  seven-leagued  boots. 
What  was  it  —  four  hundred  and  twenty  miles  in  fifty 
days?  How  many  navigable  rivers  did  he  step  across?" 
He  began  to  count  on  those  long  fingers  of  his.  "The 
Eclisto,  the  Broad,  the  Catawba,  the  Pedee,  and  —  ?  " 

"  The  Cape  Fear,"  I  said. 

"Is  —  is  the  General  a  nice  man?"  asked  Mr.  Lincoln, 
his  eyes  twinkling. 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  is  that,"  I  answered  heartily.  "  And  not 
a  man  in  the  army  wants  anything  when  he  is  around. 
You  should  see  that  Army  of  the  Mississippi,  sir.  They 
arrived  in  Goldsboro'  in  splendid  condition." 

He  got  up  and  gathered  his  coat-tails  under  his  arms, 
and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  cabin. 


492  THE   CRISIS 

"  What  do  the  boys  call  the  General  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  told  him  "Uncle  Billy."  And,  thinking  the  story  of 
the  white  socks  might  amuse  him,  I  told  him  that.  It  did 
amuse  him. 

"  Well,  now,"  he  said,  "  any  man  that  has  a  nickname 
like  that  is  all  right.  That's  the  best  recommendation 
you  can  give  the  General  —  just  say  4  Uncle  Billy.'  "  He 
put  one  lip  over  the  other.  "  You've  given  4  Uncle  Billy  ' 
a  good  recommendation,  Steve."  he  said.  "Did  you  ever 
hear  the  story  of  Mr.  Wallace's  Irish  gardener  ?  " 

"No,  sir."" 

"  Well,  when  Wallace  was  hiring  his  gardener  he 
asked  him  whom  he  had  been  living  with. 

"  4  Misther  Dalton,  sorr.' 

"  4  Have  you  a  recommendation,  Terence  ?  ' 

"  4  A  ricommindation  is  it,  sorr  ?  Sure  I  have  nothing 
agin  Misther  Dalton,  though  he  moightn't  be  knowing 
just  the  respict  the  likes  of  a  first-class  garthener  is 
entitled  to." 

He  did  not  laugh.  He  seldom  does,  it  seems,  at  his 
own  stories.  But  I  could  not  help  laughing  over  the 
"  ricommindation "  I  had  given  the  General.  He  knew 
that  I  was  embarrassed,  and  said  kindly  :  — 

"  Now  tell  me  something  about  4  Uncle  Billy's  Bum 
mers.'  I  hear  that  they  have  a  most  effectual  way  of 
tearing  up  railroads." 

I  told  him  of  Poe's  contrivance  of  the  hook  and  chain, 
and  how  the  heaviest  rails  were  easily  overturned  with  it, 
and  how  the  ties  were  piled  and  fired  and  the  rails  twisted 
out  of  shape.  The  President  listened  to  every  word  with 
intense  interest. 

"  By  Jing  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  we  have  got  a  general. 
Caesar  burnt  his  bridges  behind  him,  but  Sherman  burns 
his  rails.  Now  tell  me  some  more." 

He  helped  me  along  by  asking  questions.  Then  I  began 
to  tell  him  how  the  negroes  had  flocked  into  our  camps,  and 
how  simply  and  plainly  the  General  had  talked  to  them, 
advising  them  against  violence  of  any  kind,  and  explaining 
to  them  that  "  Freedom  "  meant  only  the  liberty  to  earn 


THE   SAME,   CONTINUED  493 

their  own  living  in  their  own  way,  and  not  freedom  from 
work. 

"  We  have  got  a  general,  sure  enough,"  he  cried.  "  He 
talks  to  them  plainly,  does  he,  so  that  they  understand? 
I  say  to  you,  Brice,"  he  went  on  earnestly,  "the  impor 
tance  of  plain  talk  can't  be  overestimated.  Any  thought, 
how.ever  abstruse,  can  be  put  in  speech  that  a  boy  or  a 
negro  can  grasp.  Any  book,  however  deep,  can  be  written 
in  terms  that  everybody  can  comprehend,  if  a  man  only 
tries  hard  enough.  When  I  was  a  boy  I  used  to  hear  the 
neighbors  talking,  and  it  bothered  me  so  because  I  could 
not  understand  them  that  I  used  to  sit  up  half  the  night 
thinking  things  out  for  myself.  I  remember  that  I  did 
not  know  what  the  word  demonstrate  meant.  So  I  stopped 
my  studies  then  and  there  and  got  a  volume  of  Euclid. 
Before  I  got  through  I  could  demonstrate  everything  in  it, 
and  I  have  never  been  bothered  with  demonstrate  since." 

I  thought  of  those  wonderfully  limpid  speeches  of  his :  of 
the  Freeport  debates,  and  of  ther  contrast  between  his  style 
and  Douglas's.  And  I  understood  the  reason  for  it  at  last. 
I  understood  the  supreme  mind  that  had  conceived  the 
Freeport  Question.  And  as  I  stood  before  him  then,  at 
the  close  of  this  fearful  war,  the  words  of  the  Gospel  were 
in  my  mind.  "  So  the  last  shall  be  first,  and  the  first, 
last  ;  for  many  be  called,  but  few  chosen." 

How  I  wished  that  all  those  who  have  maligned  and 
tortured  him  could  talk  with  him  as  I  had  talked  with 
him.  To  know  his  great  heart  would  disarm  them  of  all 
antagonism.  They  would  feel,  as  I  feel,  that  his  life  is 
so  much  nobler  than  theirs,  and  his  burdens  so  much 
heavier,  that  they  would  go  away  ashamed  of  their 
criticism. 

He  said  to  me  once  :  "  Brice,  I  hope  we  are  in  sight  of 
the  end,  now.  I  hope  that  we  may  get  through  without 
any  more  fighting.  I  don't  want  to  see  any  more  of  our 
countrymen  killed.  And  then,"  he  said,  as  if  talking  to 
himself,  "  and  then  we  must  show  them  mercy  —  mercy." 

I  thought  it  a  good  time  to  mention  Colfax's  case.  He 
has  been  on  my  mind  ever  since.  Mr.  Lincoln  listened 


494  THE  CRISIS 

attentively.  Once  he  sighed,  and  he  was  winding  his  long 
fingers  around  each  other  while  I  talked. 

"I  saw  the  man  captured,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  I  concluded. 
"  And  if  a  technicality  will  help  him  out,  he  was  actually 
within  his  own  skirmish  line  at  the  time.  The  Rebel 
skirmishers  had  not  fallen  back  on  each  side  of  him." 

"  Brice,"  he  said,  with  that  sorrowful  smile,  "  a  tech 
nicality  might  save  Colfax,  but  it  won't  save  me.  Is  this 
man  a  friend  of  yours  ?  "  he  asked. 

That  was  a  poser. 

"  I  think  he  is,  Mr.  Lincoln.  I  should  like  to  call  him 
so.  I  admire  him."  And  I  went  on  to  tell  of  what  he 
had  done  at  Vicksburg,  leaving  out,  however,  my  instru 
mentality  in  having  him  sent  north.  The  President  used 
almost  Sherman's  words. 

"  By  Jing  !  "  he  exclaimed.  (That  seems  to  be  a  favor 
ite  expression  of  his.)  "  Those  fellows  were  born  to  fight. 
If  it  wasn't  for  them,  the  South  would  have  quit  long  ago." 
Then  he  looked  at  me  in  "his  funny  way,  and  said,  "  See 
here,  Steve,  if  this  Colfax  isn't  exactly  a  friend  of  yours, 
there  must  be  some  reason  why  you  are  pleading  for  him 
in  this  way." 

"  Well,  sir,"  I  said,  at  length,  "  I  should  like  to  get 
him  off  on  account  of  his  cousin,  Miss  Virginia  Carvel." 
And  I  told  him  something  about  Miss  Carvel,  and  how 
she  had  helped  you  with  the  Union  sergeant  that  day  in 
the  hot  hospital.  And  how  she  had  nursed  Judge 
Whipple." 

"  She's  a  fine  woman,"  he  said.  "  Those  women  have 
helped  those  men  to  prolong  this  war  about  three  years. 
And  yet  we  must  save  them  for  the  nation's  sake.  They 
are  to  be  the  mothers  of  our  patriots  in  days  to  come. 
Is  she  a  friend  of  yours,  too,  Steve  ?  " 

What  was  I  to  say  ? 

"  Not  especially,  sir,"  I  answered  finally.  "  I  have  had 
to  offend  her  rather  often.  But  I  know  that  she  likes  my 
mother." 

"  Why  1  "  he  cried,  jumping  up,  "  she's  a  daughter  of 
Colonel  Carvel.  I  always  had  an  admiration  for  that  man. 


THE   SAME,   CONTINUED  495 

An  ideal  Southern  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  —  courte 
ous,  as  honorable  and  open  as  the  day,  and  as  brave  as  a 
lion.  You've  heard  the  story  of  how  he  threw  a  man 
named  Babcock  out  of  his  store,  who  tried  to  bribe  him  ?  " 

"  I  heard  you  tell  it  in  that  tavern,  sir.  And  I  have 
heard  it  since."  It  did  me  good  to  hear  the  Colonel 
praised. 

"  I  always  liked  that  story,"  he  said.  "  By  the  way, 
what's  become  of  the  Colonel  ?  " 

"  He  got  away  —  South,  sir,"  I  answered.  "  He  couldn't 
stand  it.  He  hasn't  been  heard  of  since  the  summer  of 
'63.  They  think  he  was  killed  in  Texas.  But  they  are 
not  positive.  They  probably  never  will  be,"  I  added. 

He  was  silent  awhile. 

"Too  bad!"  he  said.  "Too  bad.  What  stuff  those 
men  are  made  of !  And  so  you  want  me  to  pardon  this 
Colfax  ?  " 

"It  would  be  presumptuous  in  me  to  go  that  far,  sir,"  I 
replied.  "  But  I  hoped  you  might  speak  of  it  to  the 
General  when  he  comes.  And  1  would  be  glad  of  the 
opportunity  to  testify." 

He  took  a  few  strides  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  said,  "  that's  my  vice  —  pardoning, 
saying  yes.  It's  always  one  more  drink  with  me.  It  —  " 
he  smiled  —  "it  makes  me  sleep  better.  I've  pardoned 
enough  Rebels  to  populate  New  Orleans.  Why,"  he  con 
tinued,  with  his  whimsical  look,  "  just  before  I  left 
Washington,  in  comes  one  of  your  Missouri  senators  with 
a  list  of  Rebels  who  are  shut  up  in  McDowell's  and  Alton. 
I  said :  — 

" 4  Senator,  you're  not  going  to  ask  me  to  turn  loose  all 
those  at  once  ?  ' 

"  He  said  just  what  you  said  when  you  were  speaking 
of  Missouri  a  while  ago,  that  he  was  afraid  of  guerilla 
warfare,  and  that  the  war  was  nearly  over.  I  signed  'em. 
And  then  what  does  he  do  but  pull  out  another  batch 
longer  than  the  first !  And  those  were  worse  than  the 
first. 

"  4  What !  you  don't  want  me  to  turn  these  loose,  too  ?  ' 


496  THE   CRISIS 

" '  Yes,  I  do,  Mr.  President.  I  think  it  will  pay  to  be 
merciful.' 

44 'Then  durned  if  I  don't,'  I  said,  and  I  signed  'em." 

STEAMER  "  RIVER  QUEEN." 
ON  THE  POTOMAC,  April  9,  1865. 

DEAR  MOTHER  :  I  am  glad  that  the  telegrams  I  have 
been  able  to  send  reached  you  safely.  I  have  not  had  time 
to  write,  and  this  will  be  but  a  short  letter. 

You  will  be  surprised  to  see  this  heading.  I  am  on  the 
President's  boat,  in  the  President's  party,  bound  with  him 
for  Washington.  And  this  is  how  it  happened  :  The  very 
afternoon  of  the  day  I  wrote  you,  General  Sherman  him 
self  arrived  at  City  Point  on  the  steamer  Russia.  I  heard 
the  salutes,  and  was  on  the  wharf  to  meet  him.  That 
same  afternoon  he  and  General  Grant  and  Admiral  Porter 
went  aboard  the  River  Queen  to  see  the  President.  How 
I  should  have  liked  to  be  present  at  that  interview ! 

After  it  was  over  they  all  came  out  of  the  cabin  together  : 
General  Grant  silent,  and  smoking,  as  usual ;  General  Sher 
man  talking  vivaciously ;  and  Lincoln  and  the  Admiral 
smiling  and  listening.  That  was  historic !  1  shall  never 
expect  to  see  such  a  sight  again  in  all  my  days.  You  can 
imagine  my  surprise  when  the  President  called  me  from 
where  I  was  standing  at  some  distance  with  the  other 
officers.  He  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  then  and  there, 
and  turned  to  General  Sherman. 

"  Major  Brice  is  a  friend  of  mine,  General,"  he  said. 
"  I  knew  -him  in  Illinois." 

"  He  never  told  me  that,"  said  the  General. 

"  I  guess  he's  got  a  great  many  important  things  shut 
up  inside  of  him,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  banteringly.  "But 
he  gave  you  a  good  recommendation,  Sherman.  He  said 
that  you  wore  white  socks,  and  that  the  boys  liked  you 
and  called  you  4  Uncle  Billy.'  And  I  told  him  that  was 
the  best  recommendation  he  could  give  anybody." 

I  was  frightened.  But  the  General  only  looked  at  me 
with  those  eyes  that  go  through  everything,  and  then  he 
laughed. 


THE   SAME,   CONTINUED  497 

"Brice,"  he  said,  "you'll  have  my  reputation  ruined." 

"Sherman,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "you  don't  want  the 
Major  right  away,  do  you?  Let  him  stay  around  here 
for  a  while  with  me.  I  think  he'll  find  it  interesting." 
He  looked  at  the  general-in-chief,  who  was  smiling  just 
a  little  bit.  "  I've  got  a  sneaking  notion  that  Grant's 
going  to  do  something." 

Then  they  all  laughed. 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  said  my  General,  "  you  may 
have  Brice.  Be  careful  he  doesn't  talk  you  to  death  — 
he's  said  too  much  already." 

That  is  how  I  came  to  stay. 

I  have  no  time  now  to  tell  you  all  that  I  have  seen  and 
heard.  I  have  ridden  with  the  President,  and  have  gone 
with  him  on  errands  of  mercy  and  errands  of  cheer.  I  have 
been  almost  within  sight  of  what  we  hope  is  the  last 
struggle  of  this  frightful  war.  I  have  listened  to  the 
guns  of  Five  Forks,  where  Sheridan  and  Warren  bore 
their  own  colors  in  the  front  of  the  charge.  I  was  with 
Mr.  Lincoln  while  the  battle  of  Petersburg  was  raging, 
and  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

Then  came  the  retreat  of  Lee  and  the  instant  pursuit  of 
Grant,  and  —  Richmond.  The  quiet  General  did  not  so 
much  as  turn  aside  to  enter  the  smoking  city  he  had  be 
sieged  for  so  long.  But  I  went  there,  with  the  President. 
And  if  I  had  one  incident  in  my  life  to  live  over  again,  I 
should  choose  this.  As  we  were  going  up  the  river,  a  dis 
abled  steamer  lay  across  the  passage  in  the  obstruction  of 
piles  the  Confederates  had  built.  Mr.  Lincoln  would  not 
wait.  There  were  but  a  few  of  us  in  his  party,  and  we 
stepped  into  Admiral  Porter's  twelve-oared  barge  and 
were  rowed  to  Richmond,  the  smoke  of  the  fires  still 
darkening  the  sky.  We  landed  within  a  block  of  Libby 
Prison. 

With  the  little  guard  of  ten  sailors  he  marched  the  mile 
and  a  half  to  General  Weitzel's  headquarters,  —  the  presi 
dential  mansion  of  the  Confederacy.  You  can  imagine 
our  anxiety.  I  shall  remember  him  always  as  I  saw  him 
that  day,  a  tall,  black  figure  of  sorrow,  with  the  high  silk 

2K 


498  THE   CRISIS 

hat  we  have  learned  to  love.  Unafraid,  his  heart  rent 
with  pity,  he  walked  unharmed  amid  such  tumult  as  I 
have  rarely  seen.  The  windows  filled,  the  streets  ahead 
of  us  became  choked,  as  the  word  that  the  President  was 
coming  ran  on  like  quick-fire.  The  mob  shouted  and 
pushed.  Drunken  men  reeled  against  him.  The  negroes 
wept  aloud  and  cried  hosannas.  They  pressed  upon  him 
that  they  might  touch  the  hem  of  his  coat,  and  one  threw 
himself  on  his  knees  and  kissed  the  President's  feet. 

Still  he  walked  on  unharmed,  past  the  ashes  and  the 
ruins.  Not  as  a  conqueror  was  he  come,  to  march  in  tri 
umph.  Not  to  destroy,  but  to  heal.  Though  there  were 
many  times  when  we  had  to  fight  for  a  path  through  the 
crowds,  he  did  not  seem  to  feel  the  danger. 

Was  it  because  he  knew  that  his  hour  was  not  yet 
come  ? 

To-day,  on  the  boat,  as  we  were  steaming  between  the 
green  shores  of  the  Potomac,  I  overheard  him  reading  to 
Mr.  Sumner :  — 

"  Duncan  is  in  his  grave  ; 
After  life's  fitful  fever  he  sleeps  well ; 
Treason  has  done  his  worst ;  nor  steel,  nor  poison, 
Malice  domestic,  foreign  levy,  nothing, 
Can  touch  him  further." 

WILLARD'S  HOTEL,  WASHINGTON,  April  10,  1865. 

I  have  looked  up  the  passage,  and  have  written  it  in 
above.  It  haunts  me. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE   MAN   OF   SORROWS 

THE  train  was  late  —  very  late.  It  was  Virginia  who 
first  caught  sight  of  the  new  dome  of  the  Capitol  through 
the  slanting  rain,  but  she  merely  pressed  her  lips  together 
and  said  nothing.  In  the  dingy  brick  station  of  the 
Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railroad  more  than  one  person  paused 
to  look  after  them,  and  a  kind-hearted  lady  who  had  been 
in  the  car  kissed  the  girl  good-by. 

"  You  think  that  you  can  find  your  uncle's  house,  my 
dear  ? "  she  asked,  glancing  at  Virginia  with  concern. 
Through  all  of  that  long  journey  she  had  worn  a  look 
apart.  "  Do  you  think  you  can  find  your  uncle's  house  ?  " 

Virginia  started.  And  then  she  smiled  as  she  looked 
at  the  honest,  alert,  and  squarely  built  gentleman  beside 
her. 

44  Captain  Brent  can,  Mrs.  Ware,"  she  said.  "  He  can 
find  anything." 

Whereupon  the  kind  lady  gave  the  Captain  her  hand. 

"  You  look  as  if  you  could,  Captain,"  said  she.  "  Re 
member,  if  General  Carvel  is  .out  of  town,  you  promised 
to  bring  her  to  me." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Captain  Lige,  "and  so  I  shall." 

"  Kerridge,  kerridge  !  Right  dis-a-way  !  No  sah,  dat 
ain't  de  kerridge  you  wants.  Dat's  it,  lady,  you'se  lookin' 
at  it.  Kerridge,  kerridge,  kerridge  !  " 

Virginia  tried  bravely  to  smile,  but  she  was  very  near 
to  tears  as  she  stood  on  the  uneven  pavement  and  looked 
at  the  scrawny  horses  standing  patiently  in  the  steady 
downpour.  All  sorts  of  people  were  coming  and  going, — 
army  officers  and  navy  officers  and  citizens  of  states  and 
territories,  driving  up  and  driving  away. 

499 


500  THE   CRISIS 

And  this  was  Washington  ! 

She  was  thinking  then  of  the  multitude  who  came  here 
with  aching  hearts,  —  with  heavier  hearts  than  was  hers 
that  day.  How  many  of  the  throng  hurrying  by  would 
not  flee,  if  they  could,  back  to  the  peaceful  homes  they 
had  left?  But  perhaps  those  homes  were  gone  now. 
Destroyed,  like  her  own,  by  the  war.  Women  with  chil 
dren  at  their  breasts,  and  mothers  bowed  with  sorrow,  had 
sought  this  city  in  their  agony.  Young  men  and  old  had 
come  hither,  striving  to  keep  back  the  thoughts  of  dear 
ones  left  behind,  whom  they  might  never  see  again.  And 
by  the  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  they  had  passed 
from  here  to  the  places  of  blood  beyond. 

"  Kerridge,  sah  !     Kerridge  !  " 

"  Do  you  know  where  General  Daniel  Carvel  lives  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sah,  reckon  I  does.  I  Street,  sah.  Jump  right 
in,  sah." 

Virginia  sank  back  on  the  stuffy  cushions  of  the  rattle 
trap,  and  then  sat  upright  again  and  stared  out  of  the 
window  at  the  dismal  scene.  They  were  splashing  through 
a  sea  of  mud.  Ever  since  they  had  left  St.  Louis,  Cap 
tain  Lige  had  done  his  best  to  cheer  her,  and  he  did  not 
intend  to  desist  now. 

"  This  beats  all,"  he  cried.  "  So  this  is  Washington  ! 
Why,  it  don't  compare  to  St.  Louis,  except  we  haven't 
got  the  White  House  and  the  Capitol.  Jinny,  it  would 
take  a  scow  to  get  across  the  street,  and  we  don't  have 
ramshackly  stores  and  nigger  cabins  bang  up  against  fine 
houses  like  that.  This  is  ragged.  That's  what  it  is, 
ragged.  We  don't  have  any  dirty  pickaninnies  dodging 
among  the  horses  in  our  residence  streets.  I  declare, 
Jinny,  if  those  aren't  pigs  !  " 

Virginia  laughed.     She  could  not  help  it. 

"  Poor  Lige  !  "  she  said.  "  I  hope  Uncle  Daniel  has 
some  breakfast  for  you.  You've  had  a  good  deal  to  put 
up  with  on  this  trip." 

"Lordy,  Jinny,"  said  the  Captain,  "I'd  put  up  with 
a  good  deal  more  than  this  for  the  sake  of  going  any 
where  with  you." 


THE   MAN   OF   SORROWS  501 

"  Even  to  such  a  doleful  place  as  this  ?  "  she  sighed. 

"This  is  all  right,  if  the  sun'll  only  come  out  and  dry 
things  up  and  let  us  see  the  green  on  those  trees,"  he  said. 
"  Lordy,  how  I  do  love  to  see  the  spring  green  in  the  sun 
light !" 

She  put  out  her  hand  over  his. 

"  Lige,"  she  said,  "  you  know  you're  just  trying  to  keep 
up  my  spirits.  You've  been  doing  that  ever  since  we  left 
home." 

"  No  such  thing,"  he  replied  with  vehemence.  "  There's 
nothing  for  you  to  be  cast  down  about." 

"  Oh,  but  there  is  ! "  she  cried.  "  Suppose  I  can't  make 
your  Black  Republican  President  pardon  Clarence ! " 

"  Pooh ! "  said  the  Captain,  squeezing  her  hand  and 
trying  to  appear  unconcerned.  "  Your  Uncle  Daniel 
knows  Mr.  Lincoln.  He'll  have  that  arranged." 

Just  then  the  rattletrap  pulled  up  at  the  sidewalk,  the 
wheels  of  the  near  side  in  four  inches  of  mud,  and  the 
Captain  leaped  out  and  spread  the  umbrella.  They  were 
in  front  of  a  rather  imposing  house  of  brick,  flanked  on 
one  side  by  a  house  just  like  it,  and  on  the  other  by  a 
series  of  dreary  vacant  lots  where  the  rain  had  collected 
in  pools.  They  climbed  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell.  In 
due  time  the  door  was  opened  by  a  smiling  yellow  butler 
in  black. 

"  Does  General  Carvel  live  here  ?  " 

"  Yas,  miss.  But  he  ain't  to  home  now.  Done  gone  to 
New  York." 

"  Oh,"  faltered  Virginia.  "  Didn't  he  get  my  telegram 
day  before  yesterday?  I  sent  it  to  the  War  Department." 

"He's  done  gone  since  Saturday,  miss."  And  then, 
evidently  impressed  by  the  young  lady's  looks,  he  added 
hospitably,  "Kin  I  do  anything  fo'  you,  miss ?  " 

"  I'm  his  niece,  Miss  Virginia  Carvel,  and  this  is  Captain 
Brent." 

The  yellow  butler's  face  lighted  up. 

"  Come  right  in,  Miss  Jinny.  Done  heerd  de  General 
speak  of  you  often — yas'm.  De  General'll  be  to  home 
dis  a'ternoon,  suah.  'Twill  do  him  good  ter  see  you,  Miss. 


502  THE   CKISIS 

Jinny.  He's  been  mighty  lonesome.  Walk  right  in, 
Cap'n,  and  make  yo'selves  at  home.  Lizbeth  —  Lizbeth  !  " 
A  yellow  maid  came  running  down  the  stairs.  "  Heah's 
Miss  Jinny." 

"  Lan'  of  goodness  !  "  cried  Lizbeth.  "  I  knows  Miss 
Jinny.  Done  seed  her  at  Calve't  House.  How  is  you, 
Miss  Jinny  ?  " 

"Very  well,  Lizbeth,"  said  Virginia,  listlessly  sitting 
down  on  the  hall  sofa.  "  Can  you  give  us  some  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Yas'm,"  said  Lizbeth,  ujes'  reckon  we  kin."  She 
ushered  them  into  a  walnut  dining  room,  big  and  high 
and  sombre,  with  plush-bottomed  chairs  placed  about  — 
walnut  also  ;  for  that  was  the  fashion  in  those  days.  But 
the  Captain  had  no  sooner  seated  himself  than  he  shot  up 
again  and  started  out. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Lige  ?  " 

"  To  pay  off  the  carriage  driver,"  he  said. 

"  Let  him  wait,"  said  Virginia.  "  I'm  going  to  the 
White  House  in  a  little  while." 

"  What  —  what  for  ?  "  he  gasped. 

"  To  see  }Tour  Black  Republican  President,"  she  replied, 
with  alarming  calmness. 

"Now,  Jinny,"  he  cried,  in  excited  appeal,  "don't  go 
doin'  any  such  fool  trick  as  that.  Your  Uncle  Dan'l  will 
be  here  this  afternoon.  He  knows  the  President.  And 
then  the  thing'll  be  fixed  all  right,  and  no  mistake." 

Her  reply  was  in  the  same  tone  —  almost  a  monotone  — 
which  she  had  used  for  three  days.  It  made  the  Captain 
very  uneasy,  for  he  knew  when  she  spoke  in  that  way  that 
her  will  was  in  it. 

"And  to  lose  that  time,"  she  answered,  "may  be  to  have 
him  shot." 

"But  you  can't  get  to  the  President  without  creden 
tials,"  he  objected. 

"  What,"  she  flashed,  "  hasn't  any  one  a  right  to  see  the 
President  ?  You  mean  to  say  that  he  will  not  see  a  woman 
in  trouble  ?  Then  all  these  pretty  stories  I  hear  of  him 
are  false.  They  are  made  up  by  the  Yankees." 

Poor  Captain  Lige !     He  had  some  notion  of  the  multi- 


THE   MAN   OF   SORROWS  503 

tude  of  calls  upon  Mr.  Lincoln,  especially  at  that  time. 
But  he  could  not,  he  dared  not,  remind  her  of  the  princi 
pal  reason  for  this,  —  Lee's  surrender  and  the  approaching 
end  of  the  war.  And  then  the  Captain  had  never  seen 
Mr.  Lincoln.  In  the  distant  valley  of  the  Mississippi  he 
had  only  heard  of  the  President  very  conflicting  things. 
He  had  heard  him  criticised  and  reviled  and  praised,  just  as 
is  every  man  who  goes  to  the  White  House,  be  he  saint  or 
sinner.  And,  during  an  administration,  no  man  at  a 
distance  may  come  at  a  President's  true  character  and 
worth.  The  Captain  had  seen  Lincoln  caricatured  vilely. 
And  again  he  had  read  and  heard  the  pleasant  anecdotes 
of  which  Virginia  had  spoken,  until  he  did  not  know 
what  to  believe. 

As  for  Virginia,  he  knew  her  partisanship  to,  and  un 
dying  love  for,  the  South  ;  he  knew  the  class  prejudice 
which  was  bound  to  assert  itself,  and  he  had  seen  enough 
in  the  girl's  demeanor  to  fear  that  she  was  going  to  demand 
rather  than  implore.  She  did  not  come  of  a  race  that  was 
wont  to  bend  the  knee. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  said  despairingly,  "you  must  eat  some 
breakfast  first,  Jinny." 

She  waited  with  an  ominous  calmness  until  it  was 
brought  in,  and  then  she  took  a  part  of  a  roll  and  some 
coffee. 

"This  won't  do,"  exclaimed  the  Captain.  "  Why,  why, 
that  won't  get  you  halfway  to  Mr.  Lincoln." 

She  shook  her  head,  half  smiling. 

"  You  must  eat  enough,  Lige,"  she  said. 

He  was  finished  in  an  incredibly  short  time,  and  amid 
the  protestations  of  Lizbeth  and  the  yellow  butler  they 
got  into  the  carriage  again,  and  splashed  and  rattled 
toward  the  White  House.  Once  Virginia  glanced  out, 
and  catching  sight  of  the  bedraggled  flags  on  the  houses 
in  honor  of  Lee's  surrender,  a  look  of  pain  crossed  her 
face.  The  Captain  could  not  repress  a  note  of  warning. 

"  Jinny,"  said  he,  "  I  have  an  idea  that  you'll  find  the 
President  a  good  deal  of  a  man.  Now  if  you're  allowed  to 
see  him,  don't  get  him  mad,  Jinny,  whatever  you  do." 


504  THE   CRISIS 

Virginia  stared  straight  ahead. 

"  If  he  is  something  of  a  man,  Lige,  he  will  not  lose  his 
temper  with  a  woman." 

Captain,  Lige  subsided.  And  just  then  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  house  of  the  Presidents,  with  its  beautiful 
portico  and  its  broad  wings.  And  they  turned  in  under 
the  dripping  trees  of  the  grounds.  A  carriage  with  a 
black  coachman  and  footman  was  ahead  of  them,  and  they 
saw  two  stately  gentlemen  descend  from  it  and  pass  the 
guard  at  the  door.  Then  their  turn  came.  The  Captain 
helped  her  out  in  his  best  mariner,  and  gave  some  money 
to  the  driver. 

"I  reckon  he  needn't  wait  for  us  this  time,  Jinny,"  said  he. 

She  shook  her  head  and  went  in,  he  following,  and  they 
were  directed  to  the  anteroom  of  the  President's  office  on 
the  second  floor.  There  were  many  people  in  the  corri 
dors,  and  one  or  two  young  officers  in  blue  who  stared  at 
her.  She  passed  them  with  her  head  high. 

But  her  spirits  sank  when  they  came  to  the  anteroom. 
It  was  full  of  all  sorts  of  people.  Politicians,  both  pros 
perous  and  seedy,  full  faced  and  keen  faced,  seeking  office; 
women,  officers,  and  a  one-armed  soldier  sitting  in  the 
corner.  He  was  among  the  men  who  offered  Virginia 
their  seats,  and  the  only  one  whom  she  thanked.  But  she 
walked  directly  to  the  doorkeeper  at  the  end  of  the  room. 
Captain  Lige  was  beside  her. 

"  Can  we  see  the  President  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Have  you  got  an  appointment  ?  "  said  the  old  man. 

"No." 

"Then  you'll  have  to  wait  your  turn,  sir,"  he  saids 
shaking  his  head  and  looking  at  Virginia.  And  he  added : 
"  It's  slow  work  waiting  your  turn,  there's  so  many  gov 
ernors  and  generals  and  senators,  although  the  session's 
over.  It's  a  busy  time,  miss." 

Virginia  went  very  close  to  him. 

"  Oh,  can't  you  do  something  ?  "  she  said.  And  added, 
with  an  inspiration,  "  I  must  see  him.  It's  a  matter  of  life 
and  death." 

She  saw  initantly,  with  a  woman's  instinct,  that  her 


THE   MAN   OF   SOKKOWS  505 

words  had  had  their  effect.  The  old  man  glanced  at  her 
again,  as  if  demurring. 

"  You're  sure,  miss,  it's  life  and  death  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Oh,  why  should  I  say  so  if  it  were  not  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  The  orders  are  very  strict,"  he  said.  "  But  the  Presi 
dent  told  me  to  give  precedence  to  cases  when  a  life  is  in 
question.  Just  you  wait  a  minute,  miss,  until  Governor 
Doddridge  comes  out,  and  I'll  see  what  I  can  do  for  you. 
Give  me  your  name,  please,  miss." 

She  remained  standing  where  she  was.  In  a  little  while 
the  heavy  door  opened,  and  a  portly,  rubicund  man  came 
out  with  a  smile  on  his  face.  He  broke  into  a  laugh,  when 
halfway  across  the  room,  as  if  the  memory  of  what  he 
had  heard  were  too  much  for  his  gravity.  The  door 
keeper  slipped  into  the  room,  and  there  was  a  silent, 
anxious  interval.  Then  he  came  out  again. 

"The  President  will  see  you,  miss." 

Captain  Lige  started  forward  with  her,  but  she  restrained 
him. 

"  Wait  for  me  here,  Lige,"  she  said. 

She  swept  in  alone,  and  the  door  closed  softly  after 
her.  The  room  was  a  big  one,  and  there  were  maps  on 
the  table,  with  pins  sticking  in  them.  She  saw  that 
much,  and  then  —  ! 

Could  this  fantastically  tall,  stooping  figure  before  her 
be  that  of  the  President  of  the  United  States  ?  She  stopped, 
as  from  the  shock  he  gave  her.  The  lean,  yellow  face  with 
the  mask-like  lines  all  up  and  down,  the  unkempt,  tousled 
hair,  the  beard  —  why,  he  was  a  hundred  times  more  ridicu 
lous  than  his  caricatures.  He  might  have  stood  for  many 
of  the  poor  white  trash  farmers  she  had  seen  in  Kentucky 
—  save  for  the  long  black  coat. 

"  Is  —  is  this  Mr.  Lincoln  ?  "  she  asked,  her  breath  taken 
away. 

He  bowed  and  smiled  down  at  her.  Somehow  that  smile 
changed  his  face  a  little. 

"  I  guess  I'll  have  to  own  up,"  he  answered. 

"  My  name  is  Virginia  Carvel,"  she  said.  "  I  have  come 
all  the  way  from  St.  Louis  to  see  you," 


506  THE   CRISIS 

"  Miss  Carvel,"  said  the  President,  looking  at  her  in 
tently,  "  I  have  rarely  been  so  flattered  in  my  life.  I  —  I 
hope  I  have  not  disappointed  you." 

Virginia  was  justly  angry. 

"  Oh,  you  haven't,"  she  cried,  her  eyes  flashing,  "because 
I  am  what  you  would  call  a  Rebel." 

The  mirth  in  the  dark  corners  of  his  eyes  disturbed  her 
more  and  more.  And  then  she  saw  that  the  President 
was  laughing. 

"And  have  you  a  better  name  for  it,  Miss  Carvel?  "  he 
asked.  "Because  I  am  searching  for  a  better  name  —  just 
now." 

She  was  silent  —  sternly  silent.  And  she  tapped  her 
foot  on  the  carpet.  What  manner  of  man  was  this  ? 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  said  the  President,  kindly. 
"  You  must  be  tired  after  your  journey."  And  he  put 
forth  a  chair. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Virginia ;  "  I  think  that  I  can 
say  what  I  have  come  to  say  better  standing." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  that's  not  strange.  I'm 
that  way,  too.  The  words  seem  to  come  out  better.  That 
reminds  me  of  a  story  they  tell  about  General  Buck  Tan 
ner.  Ever  heard  of  Buck,  Miss  Carvel?  No?  Well, 
Buck  was  a  character.  He  got  his  title  in  the  Mormon 
war.  One  day  the  boys  asked  him  over  to  the  square  to 
make  a  speech.  The  General  was  a  little  uneasy. 

" 4  I'm  all  right  when  I  get  standing  up,  Liza,'  he  said 
to  his  wife.  '  Then  the  words  come  right  along.  Only 
trouble  is  they  come  too  cussed  fast.  How'm  I  going  to 
stop  'em  when  I  want  to  ?  ' 

"'Well,  I  du  declare,  Buck,'  said  she,  4I  gave  you 
credit  for  some  sense.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  set 
down.  That'll  end  it,  I  reckon.' 

"  So  the  General  went  over  to  the  square  and  talked  for 
about  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  then  a  Chicago  man  shouted 
to  him  to  dry  up.  The  General  looked  pained. 

" 4  Boys,'  said  he,  4  it's  jest  every  bit  as  bad  for  me  as  it 
is  for  you.  You'll  have  to  hand  up  a  chair,  boys,  because 
I'm  never  going  to  get  shet  of  this  goldarned  speech  any 
other  way." 


THE   MAN  OF   SORROWS  507 

Mr.  Lincoln  had  told  this  so  comically  that  Virginia 
was  forced  to  laugh,  and  she  immediately  hated  herself. 
A  man  who  could  joke  at  such  a  time  certainly  could  not 
feel  the  cares  and  responsibilities  of  his  office.  He  should 
have  been  a  comedian.  And  yet  this  was  the  President 
who  had  conducted  the  war,  whose  generals  had  conquered 
the  Confederacy.  And  she  was  come  to  ask  him  a  favor. 

Virginia  swallowed  her  pride. 

"  Mr.  Lincoln,"  she  began,  "  I  have  come  to  talk  to  you 
about  my  cousin,  Colonel  Clarence  Coif  ax." 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  talk  to  you  about  your  cousin, 
Colonel  Coif  ax,  Miss  Carvel.  Is  he  your  third  or  fourth 
cousin  ?  " 

"  He  is  my  first  cousin,"  she  retorted. 

"  Is  he  in  the  city  ? "  asked  Mr.  Lincoln,  innocently. 
"  Why  didn't  he  come  with  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  haven't  you  heard  ?  "  she  cried.  "  He  is  Clarence 
Colfax,  of  St.  Louis,  now  a  Colonel  in  the  army  of  the 
Confederate  States." 

"  Which  army  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Lincoln. 

Virginia  tossed  her  head  in  exasperation. 

"  In  General  Joseph  Johnston's  army,"  she  replied,  try 
ing  to  be  patient.  "  But  now,"  she  gulped,  "now  he  has 
been  arrested  as  a  spy  by  General  Sherman's  army." 

"  That's  too  bad,"  answered  Mr.  Lincoln. 

"And  —  and  they  are  going  to  shoot  him." 

"  That's  worse,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  gravely.  "  But  I 
expect  he  deserves  it." 

"  Oh,  no,  he  doesn't,"  she  cried.  "  You  don't  know  how 
brave  he  is  !  He  floated  down  the  Mississippi  on  a  log, 
out  of  Vicksburg,  and  broughfback  thousands  and  thou 
sands  of  percussion  caps.  He  rode  across  the  river  when 
the  Yankee  fleet  was  going  down,  and  set  fire  to  De  Soto 
so  that  they  could  see  to  shoot." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "that's  a  good  starter." 

Then  he  looked  thoughtful. 

"  Miss  Carvel,"  said  he,  "  that  argument  reminds  me  of 
a  story  about  a  man  I  used  to  know  in  the  old  days  in 
Illinois.  His  name  was  McNeil,  and  he  was  a  lawyer. 


508  THE   CRISIS 

One  day  he  was  defending  a  prisoner  for  assault  and 
battery  before  Judge  Drake. 

"'  Judge,'  says  McNeil,  'you  oughtn't  to  lock  this  man 
up.  It  was  a  fair  fight,  and  he's  the  best  man  in  the 
state  in  a  fair  fight.  And,  what's  more,  he's  never  been 
licked  in  a  fair  fight  in  his  life.' 

"  4  And  if  your  honor  does  lock  me  up,'  the  prisoner  put 
in,  'I'll  give  your  honor  a  thunderin'  big  lickin'  when  I 
get  out.' 

"  The  Judge  took  off  his  coat. 

" '  Gentlemen,'  said  he,  4  it's  a  powerful  queer  argument, 
but  the  Court  will  admit  it  on  its  merits.  The  prisoner 
will  please  to  step  out  on  the  grass.' ' 

This  time  Virginia  contrived  merely  to  smile.  She  was 
striving  against  something,  she  knew  not  what.  Her 
breath  was  coming  deeply,  and  she  was  dangerously  near 
to  tears.  Why  ?  She  could  not  tell.  She  had  come  into 
this  man's  presence  despising  herself  for  having  to  ask 
him  a  favor.  The  sight  of  his  face  she  had  ridiculed. 
Now  she  could  not  look  into  it  without  an  odd  sensation. 
What  was  in  it  ?  Sorrow  ?  Yes,  that  was  nearest  it. 

What  had  the  man  done  ?  Told  her  a  few  funny  stories 
—  given  quizzical  answers  to  some  of  her  questions.  Quiz 
zical,  yes  ;  but  she  could  not  be  sure  then  there  was  not 
wisdom  in  them,  and  that  humiliated  her.  She  had  never 
conceived  of  such  a  man.  And,  be  it  added  gratuitously, 
Virginia  deemed  herself  something  of  an  adept  in  dealing 
with  men. 

"And  now,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "to  continue  for  the 
defence,  I  believe  that  Colonel  Colfax  first  distinguished 
himself  at  the  time  of  Camp  Jackson,  when  of  all  the 
prisoners  he  refused  to  accept  a  parole." 

Startled,  she  looked  up  at  him  swiftly,  and  then  down 
again.  "  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  yes.  But  oh,  Mr.  Lin 
coln,  please  don't  hold  that  against  him." 

If  she  could  only  have  seen  his  face  then.  But  her 
lashes  were  dropped. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  replied  the  President,  "  I  honor 
him  for  it.  I  was  merely  elaborating  the  argument  which 


THE  MAN   OF   SORROWS  509 

you  have  begun.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  pity  that  he 
should  have  taken  off  that  uniform  which  he  adorned,  and 
attempted  to  enter  General  Sherman's  lines  as  a  civilian, 

—  as  a  spy." 

He  had  spoken  these  last  words  very  gently,  but  she  was 
too  excited  to  heed  his  gentleness.  She  drew  herself  up,  a 
gleam  in  her  eyes  like  the  crest  of  a  blue  wave  in  a  storm. 

"  A  spy  ! "  she  cried ;  "  it  takes  more  courage  to  be  a 
spy  than  anything  else  in  war.  Then  he  will  be  shot. 
You  are  not  content  in  the  North  with  what  you  have 
gained.  You  are  not  content  with  depriving  us  of  our 
rights,  and  our  fortunes,  with  forcing  us  back  to  an  alle 
giance  we  despise.  You  are  not  content  with  humiliat 
ing  our  generals  and  putting  innocent  men  in  prisons. 
But  now  I  suppose  you  will  shoot  us  all.  And  all  this  mercy 
that  I  have  heard  about  means  nothing  — nothing —  " 

Why  did  she  falter  and  stop  ? 

"  Miss  Carvel,"  said  the  President,  "  I  am  afraid  from 
what  I  have  heard  just  now,  that  it  means  nothing." 

Oh,  the  sadness  of  that  voice,  —  the  ineffable  sadness, 

—  the  sadness  and  the  woe  of  a  great  nation  !     And  the 
sorrow  in  those  eyes,  the  sorrow  of  a  heavy  cross  borne 
meekly,  —  how  heavy  none  will  ever  know.     The  pain  of  a 
crown  of  thorns  worn  for  a  world  that  did  not  understand. 

No  wonder  Virginia  faltered  and  was  silent.  She  looked 
at  Abraham  Lincoln  standing  there,  bent  and  sorrowful, 
and  it  was  as  if  a  light  had  fallen  upon  him.  But  strang 
est  of  all  in  that  strange  moment  was  that  she  felt  his 
strength.  It  was  the  same  strength  she  had  felt  in  Stephen 
Brice.  This  was  the  thought  that  came  to  her. 

Slowly  she  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out  across 
the  green  grounds  where  the  wind  was  shaking  the  wet 
trees,  past  the  unfinished  monument  to  the  Father  of  her 
country,  and  across  the  broad  Potomac  to  Alexandria  in 
the  hazy  distance.  The  rain  beat  upon  the  panes,  and 
then  she  knew  that  she  was  crying  softly  to  herself.  She 
had  met  a  force  that  she  could  not  conquer,  she  had  looked 
upon  a  sorrow  that  she  could  not  fathom,  albeit  she  had 
known  sorrow. 


510  THE  CRISIS 

Presently  she  felt  him  near.  She  turned  and  looked 
through  her  tears  at  his  face  that  was  all  compassion. 
And  now  she  was  unashamed.  He  had  placed  a  chair 
behind  her. 

"  Sit  down,  Virginia,"  he  said.  Even  the  name  fell  from 
him  naturally. 

She  obeyed  him  then  like  a  child.  He  remained 
standing. 

"  Tell  me  about  your  cousin,"  he  said ;  "  are  you  going 
to  marry  him  ?  " 

She  hung  an  instant  on  her  answer.  Would  that  save 
Clarence  ?  But  in  that  moment  she  could  not  have  spoken 
anything  but  the  truth  to  save  her  soul. 

"  No,  Mr.  Lincoln,"  she  said ;  "  I  was  —  but  I  did  not 
love  him.  I  —  I  think  that  was  one  reason  why  he  was 
so  reckless." 

Mr.  Lincoln  smiled. 

"The  officer  who  happened  to  see  Colonel  Colfax  cap 
tured  is  now  in  Washington.  When  your  name  was  given 
to  me,  I  sent  for  him.  Perhaps  he  is  in  the  anteroom  now. 
I  should  like  to  tell  you,  first  of  all,  that  this  officer  de 
fended  your  cousin  and  asked  me  to  pardon  him." 

"  He  defended  him  !  He  asked  you  to  pardon  him  ! 
Who  is  he  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

Again  Mr.  Lincoln  smiled.  He  strode  to  the  bell-cord, 
and  spoke  a  few  words  to  the  usher  who  answered  his  ring. 
The  usher  went  out.  Then  the  door  opened,  and  a  young 
officer,  spare,  erect,  came  quickly  into  the  room,  and  bowed 
respectfully  to  the  President.  But  Mr.  Lincoln's  eyes 
were  not  on  him.  They  were  on  the  girl.  He  saw  her 
head  lifted,  timidly.  He  saw  her  lips  part  and  the  color 
come  flooding  into  her  face.  But  she  did  not  rise. 

The  President  sighed.  But  the  light  in  her  eyes  was 
reflected  in  his  own.  It  has  been  truly  said  that  Abraham 
Lincoln  knew  the  human  heart. 

The  officer  still  stood  facing  the  President,  the  girl 
staring  at  his  profile.  The  door  closed  behind  him. 

"  Major  Brice,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  when  you  asked  me 
to  pardon  Colonel  Colfax,  I  believe  that  you  told  me 


THE  MAN  OF   SORROWS  511 

he  was  inside  his  own  skirmish  lines  when  he  was  cap 
tured." 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  was." 

Suddenly  Stephen  turned,  as  if  impelled  by  the  Presi 
dent's  gaze,  and  so  his  eyes  met  Virginia's.  He  forgot 
time  and  place,  —  for  the  while  even  this  man  whom  he 
revered  above  all  men.  He  saw  her  hand  tighten  on  the 
arm  of  her  chair.  He  took  a  step  toward  her,  and  stopped. 
Mr.  Lincoln  was  speaking  again. 

"  He  put  in  a  plea,  a  lawyer's  plea,  wholly  unworthy  of 
him,  Miss  Virginia.  He  asked  me  to  let  your  cousin  off 
on  a  technicality.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Virginia.  Just  the  exclamation  escaped 
her  —  nothing  more.  The  crimson  that  had  betrayed  her 
deepened  on  her  cheeks.  Slowly  the  eyes  she  had  yielded 
to  Stephen  came  back  again  and  rested  on  the  President. 
And  now  her  wonder  was  that  an  ugly  man  could  be  so 
beautiful. 

"  I  wish  it  understood,  Mr.  Lawyer,"  the  President  con 
tinued,  "  that  I  am  not  letting  off  Colonel  Colfax  on  a 
technicality.  I  am  sparing  his  life,"  he  said  slowly, 
"  because  the  time  for  which  we  have  been  waiting  and 
longing  for  four  years  is  now  at  hand  —  the  time  to  be 
merciful.  Let  us  all  thank  God  for  it." 

Virginia  had  risen  now.  She  crossed  the  room,  her 
head  lifted,  her  heart  lifted,  to  where  this  man  of  sorrows 
stood  smiling  down  at  her. 

"  Mr.  Lincoln,"  she  faltered,  "  I  did  not  know  you  when 
I  came  here.  I  should  have  known  you,  for  I  had  heard 
him — I  had  heard  Major  Brice  praise  you.  Oh,"  she 
cried,  "how  I  wish  that  every  man  and  woman  and  child 
in  the  South  might  come  here  and  see  you  as  I  have  seen 
you  to-day.  I  think  —  I  think  that  some  of  their  bitter 
ness  might  be  taken  away." 

Abraham  Lincoln  laid  his  hands  upon  the  girl.  And 
Stephen,  watching,  knew  that  he  was  looking  upon  a 
benediction. 

"  Virginia,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  I  have  not  suffered  by 
the  South,  I  have  suffered  with  the  South.  Your  sorrow 


512  THE   CRISIS 

has  been  my  sorrow,  and  your  pain  has  been  my  pain. 
What  you  have  lost,  I  have  lost.  And  what  you  have 
gained,"  he  added  sublimely,  "I  have  gained." 

He  led  her  gently  to  the  window.  The  clouds  were 
flying  before  the  wind,  and  a  patch  of  blue  sky  shone 
above  the  Potomac.  With  his  long  arm  he  pointed  across 
the  river  to  the  southeast,  and  as  if  by  a  miracle  a  shaft 
of  sunlight  fell  on  the  white  houses  of  Alexandria. 

"  In  the  first  days  of  the  war,"  he  said,  "  a  flag  flew 
there  in  sight  of  the  place  where  George  Washington  lived 
and  died.  I  used  to  watch  that  flag,  and  thank  God  that 
Washington  had  not  lived  to  see  it.  And  sometimes,  — 
sometimes  I  wondered  if  God  had  allowed  it  to  be  put  in 
irony  just  there."  His  voice  seemed  to  catch.  "That 
was  wrong,"  he  continued.  "  I  should  have  known  that 
this  was  our  punishment  —  that  the  sight  of  it  was  my 
punishment.  Before  we  could  become  the  great  nation 
He  has  destined  us  to  be,  our  sins  must  be  wiped  out  in 
blood.  You  loved  that  flag,  Virginia.  You  love  it  still. 
I  say  in  all  sincerity,  may  you  always  love  it.  May  the 
day  come  when  this  Nation,  North  and  South,  may  look 
back  upon  it  with  reverence.  Thousands  upon  thousands 
of  brave  Americans  have  died  under  it  for  what  they 
believed  was  right.  But  may  the  day  come  again  when 
you  will  love  that  flag  you  see  there  now  —  Washington's 
flag  —  better  still." 

He  stopped,  and  the  tears  were  wet  upon  Virginia's 
lashes.  She  cpuld  not  have  spoken  then. 

Mr.  Lincoln  went  over  to  his  desk  and  sat  down  before 
it.  Then  he  began  to  write,  slouched  forward,  one  knee 
resting  on  the  floor,  his  lips  moving  at  the  same  time. 
When  he  got  up  again  he  seemed  taller  than  ever. 

"  There  !  "  he  said,  "  I  guess  that  will  fix  it.  I'll  have 
that  sent  to  Sherman.  I  have  already  spoken  to  him 
about  the  matter." 

They  did  not  thank  him.  It  was  beyond  them  both. 
He  turned  to  Stephen  with  that  quizzical  look  on  his  face 
he  had  so  often  seen  him  wear. 

"  Steve,"  he  said,  "  I'll  tell  you  a  story.     The  other  night 


THE   MAN   OF   SORROWS  513 

Harlan  was  here  making  a  speech  to  a  crowd  out  of  the 
window,  and  my  boy  Tad  was  sitting  behind  him. 

"  4  What  shall  we  do  with  the  Rebels  ?  '  said  Harlan  to 
the  crowd. 

" ;  Hang  'em  ! '  cried  the  people. 

U4No,'  says  Tad,  4hang  on  to  'em.' 

"  And.  the  boy  was  right.  That  is  what  we  intend  to 
do,  —  hang  on  to  'em.  And,  Steve,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln, 
putting  his  hand  again  on  Virginia's  shoulder,  "  if  you 
have  the  sense  I  think  you  have,  you'll  hang  on,  too." 

For  an  instant  he  stood  smiling  at  their  blushes,  —  he 
to  whom  the  power  was  given  to  set  apart  his  cares  and 
his  troubles  and  partake  of  the  happiness  of  others.  For 
of  such  was  his  happiness. 

Then  the  President  drew  out  his  watch.  "  Bless  me  !  " 
he  said,  "  I  am  ten  minutes  behind  my  appointment  at  the 
Department.  Miss  Virginia,  you  may  care  to  thank  the 
Major  for  the  little  service  he  has  done  you.  You  can  do 
so  undisturbed  here.  Make  yourselves  at  home." 

As  he  opened  the  door  he  paused  and  looked  back  at 
them.  The  smile  passed  from  his  face,  and  an  ineffable 
expression  of  longing  —  longing  and  tenderness  —  came 
upon  it. 

Then  he  was  gone. 

For  a  space,  while  his  spell  was  upon  them,  they  did 
not  stir.  Then  Stephen  sought  her  eyes  that  had  been 
so  long  denied  him.  They  were  not  denied  him  now. 
It  was  Virginia  who  first  found  her  voice,  and  she  called 
him  by  his  name. 

"Oh,  Stephen,"  she  said,  "how  sad  he  looked  !  " 

He  was  close  to  her,  at  her  side.  And  he  answered 
her  in  the  earnest  tone  which  she  knew  so  well. 

"  Virginia,  if  I  could  have  had  what  I  most  wished  for 
in  the  world,  I  should  have  asked  that  you  should  know 
Abraham  Lincoln." 

Then  she  dropped  her  eyes,  and  her  breath  came 
quickly. 

"I  —  I  might  have  known,"  she  answered,  "  I  might 
have  known  what  he  was.  I  had  heard  you  talk  of  him. 

2L 


514  THE  CRISIS 

I  had  seen  him  in  you,  and  I  did  not  know.  Do  you  re 
member  that  day  when  we  were  in  the  summer-house 
together  at  Glencoe,  long  ago  ?  When  you  had  come 
back  from  seeing  him  ?  " 

"  As  yesterday,"  he  said. 

"  You  were  changed  then,"  she  said  bravely.  "  I  saw 
it.  Now  I  understand.  It  was  because  you.  had  seen 
Mr.  Lincoln." 

"  When  I  saw  him,"  said  Stephen,  reverently,  "  I  knew 
how  little  and  narrow  I  was." 

Then,  overcome  by  the  incense  of  her  presence,  he  drew 
her  to  him  until  her  heart  beat  against  his  own.  She 
did  not  resist,  but  lifted  her  face  to  him,  and  he  kissed 
her. 

"  You  love  me,  Virginia  !  "  he  cried. 

"  Yes,  Stephen,"  she  answered,  low,  more  wonderful  in 
her  surrender  than  ever  before.  "Yes  —  dear."  Then 
she  hid  her  face  against  his  blue  coat.  "I  —  I  cannot 
help  it.  Oh,  Stephen,  how  I  have  struggled  against  it ! 
How  I  have  tried  to  hate  you,  and  couldn't.  No,  I 
couldn't.  I  tried  to  insult  you,  I  did  insult  you.  And 
when  I  saw  how  splendidly  you  bore  it,  I  used  to  cry." 

He  kissed  her  brown  hair. 

"I  loved  you  through  it  all,"  he  said.     "Virginia  !  " 

"Yes,  dearest." 

"  Virginia,  did  you  dream  of  me  ?  " 

She  raised  her  head  quickly,  arid  awe  was  in  her  eyes. 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  " 

"Because  I  dreamed  of  you,"  he  answered.  "And 
those  dreams  used  to  linger  with  me  half  the  day  as  I 
went  about  my  work.  I  used  to  think  of  them  as  I  sat 
in  the  saddle  on  the  march." 

"  I,  too,  treasured  them,"  she  said.  "  And  I  hated  my 
self  for  doing  it." 

"  Virginia,  will  you  marry  me  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  To-morrow  ?  " 

" Yes,  dear,  to-morrow."  Faintly,  "I  —  I  have  no  one 
but  you  —  now." 


THE  MAN   OF   SORROWS  515 

Once  more  he  drew  her  to  him,  and  she  gloried  in  his 
strength. 

"  God  help  me  to  cherish  you,  dear,"  he  said,  "  and 
guard  you  well." 

She  drew  away  from  him,  gently,  and  turned  toward 
the  window. 

"  See,  Stephen,"  she  cried,  "  the  sun  has  come  out  at 
last." 

For  a  while  they  were  silent,  looking  out;  the  drops 
glistened  on  blade  and  leaf,  and  the  joyous  new  green  of 
the  earth  entered  into  their  hearts. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

ANNAPOLIS 

IT  was  Virginia's  wish,  and  was  therefore  sacred.  As 
for  Stephen,  he  little  cared  whither  they  went.  And  so 
they  found  themselves  on  that  bright  afternoon  in  mid- 
April  under  the  great  trees  that  arch  the  unpaved  streets 
of  old  Annapolis. 

They  stopped  by  direction  at  a  gate,  and  behind  it  was 
a  green  cluster  of  lilac  bushes,  which  lined  the  walk  to 
the  big  plum-colored  house  which  Lionel  Carvel  had  built. 
Virginia  remembered  that  down  this  walk  on  a  certain 
day  in  June,  a  hundred  years  agone,  Richard  Carvel  had 
led  Dorothy  Manners. 

They  climbed  the  steps,  tottering  now  with  age  and 
disuse,  and  Virginia  playfully  raised  the  big  brass  knocker, 
brown  now,  that  Scipio  had  been  wont  to  polish  until  it 
shone.  Stephen  took  from  his  pocket  the  clumsy  key 
that  General  Carvel  had  given  him,  and  turned  it  in  the 
rusty  lock.  The  door  swung  open,  and  Virginia  stood  in 
the  hall  of  her  ancestors. 

It  was  musty  and  damp  this  day  as  the  day  when  Richard 
had  come  back  from  England  and  found  it  vacant  and 
his  grandfather  dead.  But  there,  at  the  parting  of  the 
stairs,  was  the  triple-arched  window  which  he  had  de 
scribed.  Through  it  the  yellow  afternoon  light  was 
flooding  now,  even  as  then,  checkered  by  the  branches 
in  their  first  fringe  of  green.  But  the  tall  clock  which 
Lionel  Carvel  used  to  wind  was  at  Calvert  House,  with 
many  another  treasure. 

They  went  up  the  stairs,  and  reverently  they  walked 
over  the  bare  floors,  their  footfalls  echoing  through  the 
silent  house.  A  score  of  scenes  in  her  great-grandfather's 

516 


ANNAPOLIS  517 

life  came  to  Virginia.  Here  was  the  room  —  the  corner 
one  at  the  back  of  the  main  building,  which  looked 
out  over  the  deserted  garden  —  that  had  been  Richard's 
mother's.  She  recalled  how  he  had  stolen  into  it  on  that 
summer's  day  after  his  return,  and  had  flung  open  the 
shutters.  They  were  open  now,  for  their  locks  were  off. 
The  prie-dieu  was  gone,  and  the  dresser.  But  the  high 
bed  was  there,  stripped  of  its  poppy  counterpane  and 
white  curtains ;  and  the  steps  by  which  she  had  entered  it. 

And  next  they  went  into  the  great  square  room  that 
had  been  Lionel  Carvel's,  and  there,  too,  was  the  roomy  bed 
on  which  the  old  gentleman  had  lain  with  the  gout,  while 
Richard  read  to  him  from  the  Spectator.  One  side  of  it 
looked  out  on  the  trees  in  Freshwater  Lane,  and  the  other 
across  the  roof  of  the  low  house  opposite  to  where  the  sun 
danced  on  the  blue  and  white  waters  of  the  Chesapeake. 

"  Honey,"  said  Virginia,  as  they  stood  in  the  deep  recess 
of  the  window,  "  wouldn't  it  be  nice  if  we  could  live  here 
always,  away  from  the  world  ?  Just  we  two  !  But  you 
would  never  be  content  to  do  that,"  she  said,  smiling  re 
proachfully.  "  You  are  the  kind  of  man  who  must  be  in 
the  midst  of  things.  In  a  little  while  you  will  have  far 
more  besides  me  to  think  about." 

He  was  quick  to  catch  the  note  of  sadness  in  her  voice. 
And  he  drew  her  to  him. 

"  We  all  have  our  duty  to  perform  in  the  world,  dear," 
he  answered.  "It  cannot  be  all  pleasure." 

"  You  —  you  Puritan  !  "  she  cried.  "To  think  that  I 
should  have  married  a  Puritan  !  What  would  my  great- 
great-great-great-grandfather  say,  who  was  such  a  stanch 
Royalist  ?  Why,  I  think  I  can  see  him  frowning  at  me 
now,  from  the  door,  in  his  blue  velvet  coat  and  silver- 
laced  waistcoat." 

"  He  was  well  punished,"  retorted  Stephen ;  "  his  own 
grandson  was  a  Whig,  and  seems  to  have  married  a  woman 
of  spirit." 

"  She  had  spirit,"  said  Virginia.  "  I  am  sure  that  she 
did  not  allow  my  great-grandfather  to  kiss  her  —  unless 
she  wanted  to." 


518  THE  CEISIS 

And  she  looked  up  at  him,  half  smiling,  half  pouting, 
altogether  bewitching. 

"  From  what  I  hear  of  him,  he  was  something  of  a  man," 
said  Stephen.  "  Perhaps  he  did  it  anyway." 

"I  am  glad  that  Marlborough  Street  isn't  a  crowded 
thoroughfare,"  said  Virginia. 

When  they  had  seen  the  dining  room,  with  its  carved 
mantel  and  silver  door-knobs,  and  the  ballroom  in  the 
wing,  they  came  out,  and  Stephen  locked  the  door  again. 
They  walked  around  the  house,  and  stood  looking  down 
the  terraces, —  once  stately,  but  crumbled  now,  —  where 
Dorothy  had  danced  on  the  green  on  Richard's  birthday. 
Beyond  and  below  was  the  spring-house,  and  there  was 
the  place  where  the  brook  dived  under  the  ruined  wall,  — 
where  Dorothy  had  wound  into  her  hair  the  lilies  of  the 
valley  before  she  sailed  for  London. 

The  remains  of  a  wall  that  had  once  held  a  balustrade 
marked  the  outlines  of  the  formal  garden.  The  trim 
hedges,  for  seventy  years  neglected,  had  grown  inconti 
nent.  The  garden  itself  was  full  of  wild  green  things 
coming  up  through  the  brown  of  last  season's  growth. 
But  in  the  grass  the  blue  violets  nestled,  and  Virginia 
picked  some  of  these  and  put  them  in  Stephen's  coat. 

"  You  must  keep  them  always,"  she  said,  "  because  we 
got  them  here." 

They  spied  a  seat  beside  a  hoary  trunk.  There  on 
many  a  spring  day  Lionel  Carvel  had  sat  reading  his 
Gazette.  And  there  they  rested  now.  The  sun  hung 
low  over  the  old-world  gables  in  the  street  beyond  the 
wall,  and  in  the  level  rays  was  an  apple  tree  dazzling 
white,  like  a  bride.  The  sweet  fragrance  which  the  day 
draws  from  the  earth  lingered  in  the  air. 

It  was  Virginia  who  broke  the  silence. 

"Stephen,  do  you  remember  that  fearful  afternoon  of 
the  panic,  when  you  came  over  from  Anne  Brinsmade's 
to  reassure  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  dear,"  he  said.  "But  what  made  you  think  of 
it  now  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  him  directly. 


ANNAPOLIS  519 

"  I  believed  what  you  said,  Stephen.  But  you  were  so 
strong,  so  calm,  so  sure  of  yourself.  I  think  that  made 
me  angry  when  I  thought  how  ridiculous  I  must  have 
been." 

He  pressed  her  hand. 

"  You  were  not  ridiculous,  Jinny." 

She  laughed. 

"  I  was  not  as  ridiculous  as  Mr.  Cluyme  with  his  bronze 
clock.  But  do  you  know  what  I  had  under  my  arm  — 
what  I  was  saving  of  all  the  things  I  owned  ?  " 

"No,"  he  answered;  "but  I  have  often  wondered." 

She  blushed. 

"  This  house  —  this  place  made  me  think  of  it.  It  was 
Dorothy  Manners's  gown,  and  her  necklace.  I  could  not 
leave  them.  They  were  all  the  remembrance  I  had  of 
that  night  at  Mr.  Brinsmade's  gate,  when  we  came  so  near 
to  each  other." 

"  Virginia,"  he  said,  "  some  force  that  we  cannot  under 
stand  has  brought  us  together,  some  force  that  we  could 
not  hinder.  It  is  foolish  for  me  to  say  so,  but  on  that  day 
of  the  slave  auction,  when  I  first  saw  you,  I  had  a  pre 
monition  about  you  that  I  have  never  admitted  until  now, 
even  to  myself." 

She  started. 

"  Why,  Stephen,"  she  cried,  "  I  felt  the  same  way  !  " 

"And  then,"  he  continued  quickly,  "it  was  strange 
that  I  should  have  gone  to  Judge  Whipple,  who  was 
an  intimate  of  your  father's  —  such  a  singular  intimate. 
And  then  came  your  party,  and  Glencoe,  and  that  curious 
incident  at  the  Fair." 

"  When  I  was  talking  to  the  Prince,  and  looked  up  and 
saw  you  among  all  those  people." 

He  laughed. 

"  That  was  the  most  uncomfortable  of  all,  for  me." 

"  Stephen,"  she  said,  stirring  the  leaves  at  her  feet, 
"  you  might  have  taken  me  in  your  arms  the  night  Judge 
Whipple  died  —  if  you  had  wanted  to.  But  you  were 
strong  enough  to  resist.  I  love  you  all  the  more  for  that." 

Again  she  said  :  — 


520  THE   CRISIS 

"  It  was  through  your  mother,  dearest,  that  we  were 
most  strongly  drawn  together.  I  worshipped  her  from 
the  day  I  saw  her  in  the  hospital.  I  believe  that  was  the 
beginning  of  my  charity  toward  the  North." 

"  My  mother  would  have  chosen  you  above  all  women, 
Virginia,"  he  answered. 

******* 

In  the  morning  came  to  them  the  news  of  Abraham 
Lincoln's  death.  And  the  same  thought  was  in  both  their 
hearts,  who  had  known  him  as  it  was  given  to  few  to 
know  him.  How  he  had  lived  in  sorrow  ;  how  he  had 
died  a  martyr  on  the  very  day  of  Christ's  death  upon  the 
cross.  And  they  believed  that  Abraham  Lincoln  gave 
his  life  for  his  country  even  as  Christ  gave  his  for  the 
world. 

And  so  must  we  believe  that  God  has  reserved  for  this 
Nation  a  destiny  high  upon  the  earth. 

Many  years  afterward  Stephen  Brice  read  again  to  his  wife 
those  sublime  closing  words  of  the  second  inaugural :  — 

"  With  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all,  with  firm 
ness  in  the  right  as  Grod  gives  us  to  see  the  right,  let  us  strive 
onto  finish  the  work  we  are  in,  to  bind  up  the  nation's  wounds, 
to  care  for  him  who  shall  have  borne  the  battle,  and  for  his 
widow  and  his  children  —  to  do  all  which  may  achieve  and 
cherish  a  just  and  lasting  peace  among  ourselves  and  with  all 
nations." 


AFTERWORD 

THE  author  has  chosen  St.  Louis  for  the  principal 
scene  of  this  story  for  many  reasons.  Grant  and  Sher 
man  were  living  there  before  the  Civil  War,  and  Abraham 
Lincoln  was  an  unknown  lawyer  in  the  neighboring  state 
of  Illinois.  It  has  been  one  of  the  aims  of  this  book  to 
show  the  remarkable  contrasts  in  the  lives  of  these  great 
men  who  came  out  of  the  West.  This  old  city  of  St. 
Louis,  which  was  founded  by  Laclede  in  1765,  likewise 
became  the  principal  meeting-place  of  two  great  streams 
of  emigration  which  had  been  separated,  more  or  less,  since 
Cromwell's  day.  To  be  sure,  they  were  not  all  Cavaliers 
who  settled  in  the  tidewater  Colonies.  There  were  Puri 
tan  settlements  in  both  Maryland  and  Virginia.  But  the 
life  in  the  Southern  states  took  on  the  more  liberal  tinge 
which  had  characterized  that  of  the  Royalists,  even  to  the 
extent  of  affecting  the  Scotch  Calvinists,  while  the  asceti 
cism  of  the  Roundheads  was  the  keynote  of  the  Puritan 
character  in  New  England.  When  this  great  country  of 
ours  began  to  develop,  the  streams  moved  westward  ;  one 
over  what  became  the  plain  states  of  Ohio  and  Indiana  and 
Illinois,  and  the  other  across  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains  into 
Kentucky  and  Tennessee.  They  mixed  along  the  line  of 
the  Ohio  River.  They  met  at  St.  Louis,  and,  farther 
west,  in  Kansas. 

Nor  can  the  German  element  in  St.  Louis  be  ignored. 
The  part  played  by  this  people  in  the  Civil  War  is  a  mat 
ter  of  history.  The  scope  of  this  book  has  not  permitted 
the  author  to  introduce  the  peasantry  and  trading  classes 
who  formed  the  mass  in  this  movement.  But  Richter,  the 
type  of  the  university-bred  revolutionist  who  emigrated 
after  '48,  is  drawn  more  or  less  from  life.  And  the  duel 
described  actually  took  place  in  Berlin. 

St.    Louis  is  the  author's  birthplace,  and  his  home,  — 

521 


522  THE   CRISIS 

0 

the  home  of  those  friends  whom  he  has  known  from  child 
hood  and  who  have  always  treated  him  with  unfaltering 
kindness.  He  begs  that  they  will  believe  him  when  he 
says  that  only  such  characters  as  he  loves  are  reminiscent 
of  those  he  has  known  there.  The  city  has  a  large  popu 
lation,  —  large  enough  to  include  all  the  types  that  are  to 
be  found  in  the  middle  West. 

One  word  more.  This  book  is  written  of  a  time  when 
feeling  ran  high.  It  has  been  necessary  to  put  strong 
speech  into  the  mouths  of  the  characters.  The  breach 
that  threatened  our  country's  existence  is  healed  now. 
There  is  no  side  but  Abraham  Lincoln's  side.  And  this 
side,  with  all  reverence  and  patriotism,  the  author  has 
tried  to  take. 

Abraham  Lincoln  loved  the  South  as  well  as  the  North. 


BY  THE   SAME  AUTHOR 

RICHARD  CARVEL 

With  Illustrations  by  Carlton  T.  Chapman  and   Malcolm  Fraser 
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"  Mr.  Churchill  knows  his  London  of  the  last  century  thoroughly,  just  as  he 
knows  the  province  of  Maryland,  where  the  spirit  of  revolution  is  slowly  but  surely 
developing.  .  .  .  Goldsmith  does  not  give  a  more  vivid  description  of  the  debtor's 
jail,  or  De  Quincey  of  the  pitiless  heart  of  the  metropolis,  than  is  found  in  the  vol 
ume  before  us."  —  Indianapolis  Sentinel. 

"  This  novel  is  the  most  extensive  piece  of  semi-historical  fiction  which  has  yet 
come  from  an  American  hand ;  and  the  skill  with  which  the  materials  have  been 
handled  justifies  the  largeness  of  the  plan."  —  HAMILTON  MABIE,  in  the  New  York 
Times. 

"  To  say  that  it  reminds  us  of '  The  Virginians '  is  to  make  an  audacious  com 
parison,  but  one  which  will  naturally  occur  to  many  readers.  That  '  Richard 
Carvel '  is  able  to  stand  the  comparison  is  a  great  feather  in  Mr.  Churchill's  cap. 
...  In  short,  this  is  a  strong  and  notable  novel." —  The  News  and  Courier, 
Charleston,  S.  C. 

"  The  charm  of  the  book,  which  is  very  great,  lies  in  the  vividness  of  its  pictures 
of  the  life  of  London  and  the  colonies  in  those  picturesque  days.  The  characters 
are  alive.  One  feels  as  if  conning  the  pages  of  some  old  volume  of  the  '  Spectator.' " 
—  Washington  Times. 

"  Cooper,  in  '  The  Spy,'  was  the  first  to  show  the  wealth  of  interesting  material 
in  the  Revolution,  and  his  broadly  blazed  trail  has  been  followed  in  recent  years 
with  great  success  by  Dr.  Weir  Mitchell,  Archdeacon  Brady,  and  J.  Altsheler.  .  .  . 
To  this  small  circle  of  writers  of  American  historical  romance  must  now  be  added 
Winston  Churchill."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  It  is  a  historical  romance  of  revolutionary  days,  with  the  scenes  laid  partly  in 
Maryland  and  partly  in  the  London  of  George  III.  In  breadth  of  canvas,  massing 
of  dramatic  effect,  depth  of  feeling,  and  rare  wholesomeness  of  spirit,  it  has  seldom 
if  ever  been  surpassed  by  an  American  romance."  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

"  The  young  writer  with  his  head  full  of  the  great  romances  is  tempted  to  emu 
late  them  all,  to  excel  by  piling  up  merits.  Thus  the  author  of  '  Richard  Carvel,' 
in  setting  out  to  write  a  romance  of  the  American  Revolution,  has  boldly  vied  with 
the  author  of  '  Kidnapped  '  in  the  usurping  uncle  and  the  kidnapping  of  Richard 
by  the  slaver,  with  the  author  of '  The  Virginians  '  in  his  pictures  of  the  colonial 
gentry  and  the  visits  of  the  young  colonial  to  the  fashionable  life  of  London,  with 
the  author  of '  Henry  Esmond '  in  the  description  of  a  reigning  London  beauty, 
with  the  romancers  of  the  sea  in  the  fight  of  John  Paul  Jones  with  the  slaver  and 
with  the  Serapis"  —  Springfield  Republican. 


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THE  CELEBRITY 

AN  EPISODE 
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An  inimitable  character  study,  not  of  "  The  Celebrity  "  only,  but  of 
others  less  prominent,  though  no  less  sharply  drawn.  "  The  Celebrity  " 
desiring  to  escape  the  bright  light  of  fame,  assumes  one  summer  the 
name  of  a  man  whom  he  strongly  resembles,  and  is  later  put  to  some 
trouble  to  regain  his  own  identity. 


"  No  such  piece  of  inimitable  comedy  in  a  literary  way  has  appeared  for  years. 
...  It  is  the  purest,  keenest  fun." —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"  This  is  a  delightfully  entertaining  novel,  and  it  is  seldom  that  one  of  such  mas 
terly  qualities,  by  a  new  author,  wins  its  way  lo  public  favor  as  this  is  sure  to  do." 
—  Boston  Courier. 

"  Why  is  it  liked  ?  First,  there  is  the  element  of  clever  workmanship,  .  .  .  then 
there  is  the  sensational  element,  just  enough  of  it  ...  and  best  of  all,  there  is  the 
conundrum  element,  the  teasing  sense  of  something  to  be  solved.  .  .  .  There  is 
also  a  great  deal  of  fascinating  detail.  ...  In  a  word,  Mr.  Churchill's  book  is  as 
modern  as  the  latest  thing  in  boots,  and  we  suspect  that  this  quality  more  than  any 
other  accounts  for  the  editions."  —  New  York  Times'  Saturday  Review. 

"A  humorously  sensational  novel  of  a  rather  unusual  kind,  decidedly  original 
and  entertaining,  and  one  of  the  best  pieces  of  construction  that  has  appeared  in  a 
long  while.  .  .  .  An  altogether  clever  and  out-of-the-way  sort  of  book."  —  Phila 
delphia  Evening  Telegraph. 

"  A  clever  achievement  .  .  .  adorned  with  a  portrait  or  two  more  living  than 
mere  pen-work.  Most  notable  of  these  is  that  of  the  Western  magnate  and  turf 
man,  who  is  surprisingly  possible,  though  at  once  unbearable  and  a  good  fellow." 
The  Nation. 


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